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Hands of Clay 

A Great City’s Half — 
and the Other Half 


By 


E-dgar Rice Beach 

Author of 
“JOSHUA HUMBLE” 


^ > ) 

• o 

J ) ^ 


> ♦> o •# 


St. Louis 

E.d\vard R. Cddins Zx Co. 

1904 . 



library CONGRESS 
Two Cootes Received 

JUN 17 1904 

Cooyrieht Entry 
CLA^S XXo. Na 
COPY B 



COPYRIGHT BY EDGAR RICE BEACH, 
MAY 16th. 19C4. 




• • • 
• • 
• « • 


♦ ♦ • ♦ • 

• * 






t • • • 





HANDS OF CLAY 

A GREAT CITY'S HALF— AND THE OTHER HALF 

TIME 1856-1866. 


CHAPTER 1. 

THE GARDEN CITY. 

A strange form arose from the ice-field on the lake, 
and floated over ‘‘ The Garden City.’^ Possibly an 
aeronaut had ventured aloft in a balloon from the east- 
ern shore that clear, cold day, and from that dizzy 
height sat looking down on a beautiful scene. 

Far to the north, west and south stretched a won- 
derful network of streets, crowded with people and 
vehicles, and through the shadowy, dim horizon came 
the railways, like arteries in the human system, wind- 
ing in and concentrating at a given point. The river 
passing through the center of the city, a great trough 
filled to the brim with solid ice, under a deep bed of 
snow, held firmly at anchor hundreds of vessels wdiose 
ropes, masts and spars seemed interlaced. Huge ele- 
vators, treasuries of a continent, towered above the 
w^harves, and on evei’y hand great factories and foun- 
dries, from whose tall chimney's curled aloft in grace- 
ful wTeaths black clouds of smoke. Lofty solid squares 
of stone, brick and iron, holding the wealth of the great 
city, and the massive public buildings and stately resi- 
dences, with shapely roofs and gables, and the tall, 
5 


6 THE GARDEN CITY. 

graceful church spires with gilded weather vanes, glit- 
tered in the wavering light of sunset. 

Eastward, the blue, limpid waters of the lake rippled 
along the horizon, and seething, foaming waves came 
dancing shoreward, dashing in white sheets on the 
piers and breakwater, and far above and below the city, 
rolling high on the white, sandy shore. The light- 
house, like a giant in mortal conflict, battled with the 
waves far out in the lake, and great masses of ice were 
piled high against its storm scarred sides and over the 
piers and breakwater.' 

It was neither a spirit form nor an air ship, but a 
dull, leaden bank of clouds that arose from the bosom 
of the lake and floated over Chicago that boisterous 
New Year’s eve. Fine, damp snow fell from the black 
sky, sowing the earth with powdered cold, drifting in 
deep banks over street pavements, sifting through roofs 
• and under doors, and the wind came from the lake in 
furious gusts, with loud trumpetings and mournful 
wailings. 

Eudolph Merryfellow hurried eastward on Lake 
street, through the blinding storm, as the great bells 
of the city tolled midnight, but his progress was slow 
and toilsome. He struggled against the wind, slipped 
on icy crossings, tripped over loose boulders on the 
pavement, and condemned the negligence of the street 
commissioner in language far more forcible than ele- 
gant. 

The railway train from the East was due a few min- 
utes after midnight, and Merryfellow was endeavoring 
to reach the depot in advance of its arrival. As he ran, 
his huge feet plowed through the snow, sending it aloft 
in pearly clouds, and the wind buffeted him, but he 


THE GARDEN CITY. 


7 


leaned forward against it and ran at his utmost speed. 
By street lamps, which flickered dimly through the 
darkness and storm, over street crossings which the 
wind had swept clean, exposing smooth, icy surfaces, 
through deep snow drifts and into pitfalls left uncov- 
ered by careless workmen, now dodging a lonely pedes- 
trian, and again avoiding a passing vehicle, whose snow- 
blinded driver had allowed his team to trench upon 
the sidewalk; on, and onward, and he began to con- 
gratulate himself on his many narrow escapes from 
injury, and the progress he was making, when suddenly 
he tripped, fell forward at full length, and disappeared 
like a diver plunging from a springboard into deep 
water. 

Five seconds later the snow parted, and gradually and 
in detail there appeared through and above the white 
surface a human hand and arm, head, shoulders, 
and Merry fellow arose to his feet. As he brushed his 
neck and face with one hand, he stooped down, and 
with the other felt around in search of that over which 
he had tripped and fallen. 

“ Something soft,” he muttered as he knelt down and 
with both hands continued the search; ‘‘a sack of 
grain or sand — blazes how I plowed through the 
snow ! Dratt it ! I’ll be too late if I poke around here,” 
and he arose and started forward when his feet again 
touched the object of his search, and he reached down 
and drew from under the snow a brown duck sack. 
Holding it up in the light of the street lamp, he care- 
fully examined it, squeezed it with both hands, and 
finally said, disappointedly, “a ragpicker’s or sailor’s 
bag, pshaw ! I’m wasting time here while wife and 
baby are shivering in the cold depot.” 


8 


THE GARDEN CITY: 


Impatiently he threw the sack down on the pave- 
ment, and with such force that the string gave Avay, 
and out rolled several articles of coarse wearing 
apparel, crumpled newspapers, a memorandum book, 
and a large calf-skin wallet which opened as it fell, 
scattering its contents in the snow. He saw, even in 
the dim light of the street lamp, that the papers were 
valuable, and as he grasped them discovered that they 
were of parchment. He carefully replaced all of them 
in the wallet except one, which, without conscious 
motive, he put into the inside pocket of his great 
coat, and returning all the other articles to the sack, 
he found the string, secured the mouth, lifted the bag 
to his shoulder, and then went forward at a quick 
walk. The snow beat furiously in his face, and the 
wind twisted the sack around on his shoulder, but he 
kept steadily on and increased his speed until he 
again ran. Finally he passed an alley where the snow 
had drifted deep over the pavement, when a strong 
gust of wind whirled him around and he tripped and 
fell forward heavily. As he went down, his hold on 
the sack gave way, and it was thrown forward and 
buried in the soft, deep snow. As he arose, he 
observed Avhere it had fallen, and, after a moment’s 
reflection, during which he brushed his coat with his 
hands and stamped his feet impatiently, said: ‘‘good 
enough, out of the way there, close by the wall where 
nobody will find you to-night. Glad to be rid of you 
for the present, will attend to you in the morning. 
Hratt it! what was that I stumbled over?” 

Stooping down, he felt around with both hands, but 
quickly straightened up and said, impatiently : “ Only 
an old boot on a human foot, perhaps, but have no time 


THE GARDEN CITY. 


9 


now to investigate.” Then he glanced hastily around, 
observing the peculiarities of the locality, and added, 
“ I shall easily find the place. That five-story building 
with mansard roof and iron shutters over the way, 
this alley and unfinished building — humph !” Thrust- 
his hands deep into the pockets of his great coat, and 
drawing its long skirts closely around him, he again 
started forward and ran very fast, considering the 
strong wind and depth of snow, and a few minutes 
later he entered the door of the great union depot. 

There stood the train, just arrived, the roofs and 
platforms of the coaches white with snow, passengers 
hurrying out burdened with baggage and parcels, 
hackmen and hotel porters vehemently soliciting pat- 
ronage, and yet, amid the deafening noise and over- 
whelming confusion, he distinctly heard a familiar 
voice, and through the blinding dazzle of lights and 
the surging of a vast multitude he saw even at a dis- 
tance a form and face very dear to him, and pressing 
his way swiftly through the crowd, he clasped in his 
arms his dear young wife. There was a smothered 
exclamation of joy as Eudolph bent caressingly over 
her, the sound of kissing lips, the murmur of loving 
words of greeting, and then he took from her arms a 
mysterious bundle which immediately began to squirm, 
snuff and sneeze, and finally broke forth in a plaintive 
wail : 

“ Ah ! ” said the little wife, caressingly, the snow on 
your coat and beard falls into baby’s face, let me cover 
him up please.” Instantly Merryfellow shortened 
himself to meet the requirements of his little wife, 
young Merryfellow’s face was covered with a white 
silk handkerchief delicately perfumed, his little plump 


lO 


THE GARDEN CITY. 


hands and feet tucked snugly in under his warm fur- 
lined cloak, and a few moments later they were dash- 
ing along in a cutter behind spirited horses toward 
their earthly paradise — “ sweet home/’ 


CHAPTEE IL 


RALPH SKINNER AND LITTLE JIM. 

Ealpli Skinner lived in the garret of a five story 
building on Lake Street. It was the most substantial 
and beautiful structure in that portion of the city. It 
had been constructed under his immediate supervision 
and strictly according to his designs. He was an archi- 
tect by profession, but during the latter twenty years 
of his life had attended only to the construction of his 
own buildings, the one in which he lived being his last 
and the crowning effort and triumph of his life. He 
owned several other valuable buildings in the business 
portion of the city, and many tenement houses in the 
suburbs, and all were clear of incumbrances. His 
profession had never yielded him an income worthy of 
mention, and only by rigid economy, sharp practice 
bordering on dishonesty, yet a safe distance within the 
bounds of legitimate business transactions, had he been 
able to obtain possession of the property which he 
claimed and held in fee simple, in defiance of numer- 
ous claimants in equity. Every nail, stone, brick and 
board composing the building in which he lived repre- 
sented a sigh, tear or curse, for the purchase money had 
been wrung, penny by penny, from the poor and needy. 

Ealph Skinner was a frugal man, exceedingly care- 
ful in every business detail, and thoroughly methodical 
even in his domestic arrangements. For business pur- 
poses he occupied a small room in the fourth story 
which was very decently furnished, but the garret in 


12 


RALPH SKINHER AMD LITTLE JIM. 


which he lived had originally been designed for a lum- 
ber room, a place in which to stow away old boxes, bar- 
rels, odds and ends of lumber, stray worn-out sacks, 
old paper, and every imaginable species of rubbish. It 
had never been plastered, was close up under the bare 
timbers of the roof, and of barely sufficient height for 
a man of ordinary stature to stand upright in the cen- 
ter. A partition had been constructed across an angle 
of the great room, inclosing a space about eighteen bj’^ 
twent}^ feet, including a dormer window toward the 
street, which, being very small, but dimly lighted the 
apartment even at mid-day. 

The partition was of rough boards, with uneven 
edges not matched or battened, and the cold damp air 
rushed through the numerous openings in freezing cur- 
rents. 

The furniture of the apartment consisted of a small 
stove range, especially designed for use in warm 
weather, a kind of heat-proof apparatus, warranted to 
consume but little fuel and answer all the purposes of 
an ordinary kitchen-stove without throwing out any 
heat whatever. It sat close up under the eaves and 
had but one joint of pipe, which went straight into the 
brick chimney behind it. An ancient drop-leaf walnut 
table, hacked and marred, and one leaf gone, occupied 
a corner of the room, and above it, low down, was a 
small box nailed to the wall, having a door hung 
on leather hinges. It was used as a cupboard, 
and its mysterious contents can only be con- 
jectured. It doubtless contained a meager supply 
of very coarse unpalatable food, a few broken 
dishes, and just the number of knives and forks 
required. One large arm-chair, whole and strong. 


RALPH SKINNER AND LITTLE JIM. I 3 

occupied a jag in the wall close by the heat-proof 
stove. That was the chair of state and never 
for one moment occupied except by Skinner. A low, 
hard, wooden stool, a large, iron-bound walnut chest, 
a weak, patched-up old bedstead, on which was an old 
linen tick filled with straw and covered by tattered 
woolen blankets, constituted the essentials of the 
apartment. They possessed the merit of being plain 
and cheap to the last degree, which was a source of 
constant satisfaction to Skinner. Simple, plain, unat- 
tractive and very cheap were the points fixed in his mind, 
as he overhauled a dozen or more second-hand furni- 
ture establishments when he purchased them. 

Skinner was violently opposed to gormandizing. He 
maintained (and doubtless believed) that to eat one 
crumb after the cravings of hunger had been appeased, 
was morally a criminal act. Food, barely palatable, 
was all he required, even a trifle nauseating rendered 
it more desirable inasmuch as the ctomach would pro- 
test against its unwholesome load, and less quantity 
would satisfy its demands. Solid, substantial and 
cheap food in limited quantities was all he desired, 
and little Jim (one of his only two surviving relatives 
who lived with him, and performed the duties of cook 
and general household drudge) obtained but a meagre 
supply of even that. What wonder then if the child 
Avas Aveak, that his large blue eyes gleamed like a 
maniac’s deep sunken in their sockets, if his cheeks 
had fallen inAvard until his cheek bones Avere painfully 
prominent, and his Avhite lips tightly drawn OA^er his 
pearly teeth. ‘‘Was it singular that he trembled con- 
tinually, and staggered as he walked, or that he was 
compelled to pause, sit doAvn and rest on the landing 


14 RALPH SKINNER AND LITTLE JIM. 

of each flight of stairs when ascending to his aerial 
habitation 

When not otherwise employed, the child went 
around the alleys and courts, gathering rags and stray 
articles — pieces of paper, metal or anything of value, 
taking all home for Skinner’s inspection and estimate 
of value, and then to a junk dealer to whom he sold 
the same, being careful to drive a close bargain, and 
hurry home wdth the money. The proceeds of such 
sales were devoted to the purchase of food and fuel, 
all they ever had ; for under no circumstances would 
Skinner have expended one penny so long as the indus- 
try of little Jim could supply those wants. 

Ralph Skinner had never been married^ Just why^ 
could only have been conjectured, but nobody was 
sufficiently interested in him to care to fathom the 
secret. Rumor ran, that at an early age he had been 
disappointed in matrimonial aspirations, and that the 
lady, for whom he had conceived a degree of cold 
regard, was still living, and with her only child, a 
young lady, resided somewhere in the western suburbs 
of the cit}^ The husband and father had died bank- 
rupt leaving them as a legacy merely a good name. 
When he became the matrimonial rival of Ralph 
Skinner, he was wealthy and universally regarded as 
an honest and enterprising business man. lie w^as 
essentially every man’s friend, a generous, open-hearted 
man amid a world full of narrow-minded, grasping, 
heartless wretches clamoring for the last drachm of 
the pound of flesh, and the last drop of blood. 

It was also rumored that Ralph Skinner, burning for 
revenge, and spurred on by implacable hatred, had 
during long years, with dogged leisure and fiendish 


RALPH SKINNER AND LITTLE JIM. 15 

deliberation, crept onward step by step, point by 
point, thread by thread, weaving a snare of circum- 
stances with which to consummate Duane Worsham’s 
financial ruin. He had schemed and toiled during his 
whole life, each year to him a century, and at last, 
when Worsham was about to lay down the burden of 
life and glide away into the dark unknown, Skinner 
had the infinite satisfaction of beholding the financial 
wreck of his hated rival. It was no part of his plan 
to consummate Worsham’s financial ruin for others’ 
substantial benefit, and so, little by little, he had made 
inroads, gathered in this and that — this mortgage, that 
note and bond, until at last he had absorbed the entire 
estate. He had endeavored also to cloud the fair fame 
of the man he so loved to hate, and the foul tongue 
of slander had wagged with nervous force and gush- 
ing fervor, but in vain, for Duane Worsham wore 
Honor’s impenetrable coat of mail. 

Mrs. Grundy, with a confidential wink and nod, 
asserted that according to rumor Halph Skinner had 
always been a morose mortal, came into the world with 
a vicious snarl, was a very troublesome baby, a sullen, 
unnatural boy, and at an early age developed full- 
fledged, into a grasping, hard-hearted, soulless miser. 
‘‘ He is a thorough atheist,” she said, “ and this little 
life is all in all to him.” 

He had lived seventy years, and though withered, 
wrinkled and gray, his step was quick and firm, eyes 
clear, glance keen and swift, and mind unclouded. 
The weight of years had not bowed his form and the 
flagellations of time had served but to toughen and 
season each muscle and cord. 


1 6 RALPH SKINxVEK AND LITTLE JIM, 

Thoroughly trained in that best of schools, experi- 
ence, he knew how to speculate upon others’ needs and 
to coin their misfortunes into his profit. “ God helps 
those who help themselves,” was his favorite maxim, 
and well had he lived it. 

A ready reckoner, a skillful penman, and learned in 
the law, he was entirely competent to manage his com- 
plicated affairs without aid or counsel. He seldom 
required the services of attorneys, and only when com- 
pelled to appear in court did he employ them. Even 
then they were mere figure-heads, for he managed his 
case in minutest detail, the legal mouthpieces merely 
promulgating his theories and constructions of law, 
presenting faithfully and only such points and evidence 
as Skinner had previously secured and arranged. 

In his legal contests he was rarely unsuccessful, and 
the legal fraternity despised, and the business commu- 
nity feared him, and so he stood utterly alone in the 
world, and at war with all human kind. 

lie had risen early that New-Year’s morning, even 
before it was quite daylight, and having aroused little 
Jim from his pleasant dream of eating and merry-mak- 
ing with a joyous company, at a table groaning under 
the weight of an enormous quantity of things deli- 
cious to the taste and wholesome to the stomach, sent 
the feeble child to a coal yard in the neighborhood to 
buy and bring home a bucket of coal. As he waited 
for the boy’s return, he sat in his chair by the stove 
and busied himself with splitting kindling, from a hard- 
wood, knotty board, with a dull knife, and was so 
employed when suddenly he paused and listened. 
What did he hear? Tramp, tramp, tramp!” Some 
one ascending the stairs. Up — up — up !” A brief 


RALPH SKINNER AND LITTLE JIM. I 7 

pause on each landing and then upward again — feeble, 
tottering steps. He knew that Jimmie had been long 
enough absent to obtain the coal and return, and those 
sounded like his feeble, hesitating footsteps, yet his 
guilty conscience scourged him with apprehension, his 
face grew white and he arose from his chair trembling 
violently. 

Hearer came the footsteps, louder the echo through 
the great hall, and he shrank down behind his chair, 
firmly grasping a heavy iron bar. 

Tramp — tramp came the footsteps, a pause on the 
last landing, and then the door swung open and Jim- 
mie entered, trembling from fatigue and quite breath- 
less, bearing on his shoulder a large brown duck sack, 
which he cast on the floor, exclaiming joyfully, “ Oh, 
uncle, I found this in the snow by the new house 
across the way.” 

With fiendish exclamations of delight, Skinner rushed 
from his place of retreat behind his chair and knelt 
down on the floor by the sack. His face instantly 
changed expression, fear gave place to joy, and deathly 
pallor to a deep scarlet flush. He breathed heavily as 
though undergoing violent exercise, and tremulously 
muttered disjointed sentences. His fingers worked in 
nervous spasms at the piece of whip-cord which secured 
the mouth of the sack, and he pulled frantically at the 
ends which only tightened the knot. Finally he strug- 
gled to his feet, still pulling at the string, placed his 
foot upon the bag and strained every muscle, but the 
effort was fruitless, for the whip-cord was very strong 
and he could not break it. Finally he sank down on 
the door, quite exhausted, and said to Jimmie in a 
husky voice, bring me the knife on the floor there, 


1 8 RALPH SKINNER AND LITTLE JIM. 

by the stove.” Jimmie obeyed, and Skinner with a 
desperate thrust, severed the string and out rushed the 
contents of the sack. There were a pocket memoran- 
dum book, soiled and finger-worn, several packages of 
letters, a large calf-skin wallet in which, with other 
similar papers, was a large envelope containing official 
documents. It had passed through the mail, had been 
sealed with red wax, and bore the Chicago post mark 
of late date. 

He uttered an exclamation of surprise as he observed 
the address, “Mark Barry, Buffalo, N. Y.,” arose to 
his feet, went to the window, and carefully examined 
the papers. His excitement was intense as he ])erused 
them, and he frequently gave vent to exclamations of 
delight. When he had carefully examined all, he 
returned and knelt down by the sack. The room was 
very cold, no fire having been lighted in the heat-proof 
stove that morning, and, as old Skinner knelt down, 
bending over the contents of the sack, he shivered and 
suffered intensely. But the contemplation of his gain 
so occupied his thoughts that he was insensible to the 
pain. He rubbed his withered hands together, mut- 
tered broken sentences incoherent and inaudible, and 
as he handled over the articles one by one, his tooth- 
less jaws were locked together and his nose and chin 
almost met. He was a crouching, cringing, loath- 
some object, and the hideous expression of his face 
portrayed the reign of the worst passions of his vile 
nature. 

At length apparently satisfied with his inspection, 
he returned the clothing to the sack, tucked it under 
the bed, put the book and papers carefully away in the 
great iron bound walnut chest, and then with pleased 


RALPH SHTHNER AND LITTLE JIM. IQ 

countenance, returned to his chair, sat down and 
resumed liis work of splitting kindlings. 

When Jimmie reached the pavement he laughed 
heartily as he observed a tall man wrapped in a great- 
coat, which reached far below his knees, poking around 
in the snow with a long stick, close by the wall, just 
where he had found the sack, but he hurried on toward 
the coal-yard, apparently not observing the earnest 
seeker across the way. Shortly he returned with the 
bucket of coal, kindled a fire in the stove, and then 
went forth to search for rags. 

An hour later, as Ealph Skinner stood at the window 
of his garret watching the street-cleaners shoveling 
snow from the pavement, he saw them drag forth the 
body of a man dressed in the peculiar costume of a 
sailor. Instantly he raised the window-sash, gave vent 
to a prolonged whistle, and his shriveled face was 
wrinkled and contorted by a hideous smile. “As I 
thought,” he muttered. “ There has been foul play. 
Mark Barry was presumed to have fallen overboard 
from a Buffalo steamer one dark, stormy night, while 
on his way to Chicago. lie was not missed until tlie 
following morning, and his body has not been found. 
It was known that he had a valise on board, but 
although every part of the vessel was searched, it 
could not be found, and so it was presumed that he 
had it with him when the accident occurred, and clung 
to it as he fell. It contained valuable papers, deeds, 
mortgages and doubtless a will. But that must have 
been lost or destroyed since, else it would have been 
in the sack with the other papers.” He paused, looked 
around at the chest, chuckled fiendishly, glanced down 
toward the dead man on the oppoisite pavement, 


20 


RALPH SKINNER AND LITTLE JiM. 


shrugged his shoulders and continued : “The history 
of the whole affair is an open book to me. Mark 
Barry was en route to Chicago to look after and pro- 
vide for his sister, Mrs. Worsham — my dear friend. 
An old bachelor, like myself, that is, a baclielor, but 
unlike me in all other respects, for he was what people 
term kind-hearted and generous. Ha, ha, ha!” The 
last words were uttered sneeringly, and he was silent 
a few moments, and stood gazing thoughtfully down 
on the crowd of people on the opposite pavement who 
had gathered around the dead man. Then he closed 
the window, leaned against the sash and continued : 
“ He had disposed of all his property in Buffalo, and 
purchased very valuable real estate here. The deeds, 
he had with him when he started on that long journey 
without a boat.” He laughed scornfully, nodded 
toward the chest, turned away from the window, went 
to the stove, stirred the fire, sat down in his chair and 
resumed : 

“ Mark Barry intended to spend the remainder of his 
life in this city, but he had no balance to spend, had 
drawn his full dues, ha — ha — ha I It was reported that 
he had made a will wholly in favor of his sister, Mrs. 
Worsham, but I presume that was a mere supposition. 
But what if he did? Grant that to be true, it will 
not interfere with my purposes in the least. I hold 
all the high cards, and I believe I know how to pla}^ 
them.” Again that grim smile pla^^ed among the 
wrinkles on his haggard, yellow face, and vanished on 
his ever scornful lips. The hard, cold expression 
returned to each feature in detail and he crouched down 
in his chair, chafing his bony hands together in vain 
endeavors to induce warmth. Finally he sat up, bent 


RALPH SKINNER AND LITTLE JIM. 21 

shivering over the heat-proof stove and continued: 
‘‘That vagabond sailor waylaid Mark Barry and threw 
him overboard. He expected to find the carpet-sack 
full of money, but the dog was disappointed, for only a 
package of letters, which he could not read, and the few 
dollars which he found in his victim’s pockets consti- 
tuted his reward, How the fellow is dead enough to sat- 
isfy almost anybody, and there is no one to bring forth 
unpleasant developments. I am exceeding fortunate.” 

Long he sat thus communing with his own evil 
thoughts, grinning, chuckling, shivering over the fire, 
and continually chafing his withered hands, else they 
would have frozen. At length a light, hesitating step 
on the stairs broke the train of his meditations, and 
soon little Jim entered the room with his sack on his 
shoulder, partly filled with rags and paper, the result 
of his morning’s search. 

The boy looked cold and weary, but that in nowise 
disturbed Skinner’s equanimity or excited his sympathy, 
for. he was a stranger to such impulses, and calling the 
child to him, said in a harsh tone, as he put a letter 
into his hand, “ Take that to Foxey Grube ; you know 
where he lives ; take your plunder along and go by the 
junk shop. Bring all the money home — mind that, 
now, and drive a sharp bargain, do you hear ! And 
look you, don’t be too long about it, if you want any- 
thing to eat this morning.” 

A sad, discouraged expression came on the child’s 
face as he put forth his utmost strength, lifted the sack 
to his shoulder and hurried away, while old Skinner 
drew the table up before the heat-proof stove, took 
from the iron-bound chest a package of legal cap writing 
paper, pen and ink, and lastly the book and papers 
which he had found in the sack. 


CIIAPTEE III. 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZER. 

Michael Snoozer was the proprietor of a saloon and 
dance house in the northern suburbs of the city, border- 
ing the lake, the locality being popularly known as 
“The Sands.” He was the oldest inhabitant of that 
quarter — the pioneer — and had amassed considerable 
wealth, a large portion of which had been acquired 
through fraud, robbery or murder. The human wrecks 
which floated around him and trembled with fear in 
his presence, hinted darkly in whispers among them- 
selves of piratical deeds upon the lake, of which Snoozer 
was the chief beneficiary, and it was a common saying 
among them, also in whispers, that the human blood 
that had been spilled by violence in the vicinity of 
“ The Sands ” through Snoozer’s instrumentality would 
form a solid pavement from the Dew Drop Inn to the 
center of the city. 

Snoozer was something of a politician. That is to 
say, at every election he marched to the various voting 
places herds of talking animals in human forms, each 
beast carrying in his hand a slip of paper placed there 
by Snoozer. As to the names on those tickets, or the 
political party represented, none of those human cattle 
thought or cared to inquire. Indeed, it was to them 
no matter of interest or consequence which party tri- 
umphed at the polls, for they constituted an independ- 
ent organization of which Snoozer was the Grand 
Sachem, and they only needed to know, to do his will. 

22 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZER. 


23 


As for Snoozer, he was ever open to conviction in polit- 
ical matters, ever ready to yield to the weight of argu- 
ment when properly presented at the proper time, but 
it is a remarkable fact that he always abstained from 
an expression of his opinions relative to the merits of 
the various candidates for otRce until the day of elec- 
tion, when he invariably received numerous calls from 
aspirants to official honors and emoluments. Further- 
more, another significant fact is that Snoozer always 
seemed happy on that day, and on the day following 
passed the time alone in his council chamber in plan- 
ning additions and repairs to his premises. As for the 
human cattle driven by him to the polls and voted, 
visions of the night’s carouse at Snoozer’s dance house 
(which invariably followed election day) was the potent 
agent which influenced them in the casting of their 
ballots and made them eager to fulfill their part of the 
contract. As a reward for their loyalty, free beer 
flowed at the Dew Drop Inn, and the degree of their 
enjoyment was measurable only by the capacity of 
their stomachs to contain the villainous compound of 
hop juice and aloes. 

Michael Snoozer was a Spanish-Indian-fSTegro-China- 
man. That is to say, his great-grandfather, a Spaniard, 
married an Indian woman. Ilis grandfather married 
a full-blooded Negro woman, and his mother was a 
Chinawoman. Probably just such a mongrel never 
before existed, and it is quite certain that his counter- 
part could not have been found the world over. In 
him were concentrated the peculiar race characteristics 
of each of his ancestors, at least all of their evil 
tendencies, and whatever there was of good in their 
natures was never developed in his. When he came 


24 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZER. 


howling into the world, a veritable human monstrosity, 
nobody would have for one moment believed that he 
would eventually become the manipulator of the elec- 
tions of a great city, and the haughty proprietor of the 
Dew Drop Inn. He possessed the bombastic bravado 
of the Spaniard, the treachery and ferocity of the 
Indian, the covetousness and brutality of the African, 
and the shrewdness and insincerity of “ the heathen 
Chinee.” 

Snoozer was eminently a self-made man. lie had 
never attended school, and yet he acquired considerable 
historical and geographical knowledge, and could read, 
write and compute in a manner peculiarly his own, 
and consequently his opinions in all matters from gospel 
to cock-fighting were accepted as final and unimpeach- 
able evidence by his humble and admiring subjects. 
Bloated, bottle-nosed politicians were frequent visitors 
at the Dew Drop Inn, and many an “ Honorable M. 
C.” at midnight and in disguise crept into Snoozer's 
council-chamber to barter with that crafty and august 
representative of so many hundreds of votes. 

What wonder, then, if Snoozer became offensively 
arrogant and tyrannical as he contemplated the widen- 
ing of his circle of influence and popularity ? If he 
confidently anticipated that in the near future, aspirants 
to the highest official honors within the gift of the 
people would cringe before him and humbly barter for 
his political aid, is it at all surprising? 

Michael Snoozer was forty-five years old, five feet 
seven inches in height, and weighed two hundred 
pounds, riis complexion was swarthy, a reddish- 
yellow, hair coarse, black and wavy, eyes small, glit- 
tering black and deep set into almond-shaped sockets. 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZER. 


25 


His nose was of enormous size, broad at the base, 
bridgeless, fiat and twisted sidewise, having been con- 
siderably disarranged by an antagonist in a fight. 
His mouth was of enormous size, and his heavy, flabby 
lips were never free from the stain of tobacco, which he 
devoured in enormous quantities. His head, massive- 
oval, with receding forehead, knotted and gnarled, was 
set square down on broad shoulders, with scarcely the 
semblance of a neck intervening. 

He was not noted for energy. In truth it was slyly 
hinted, even within the charmed circle of his power at 
“The Sands,” and within the very walls of The Dew 
Drop Inn, that he was decidedly averse to even mod- 
erate muscular exertion, but for industry in sleep- 
ing his equal could nowhere be found. Not unfre- 
quently, when engaged in conversation with the com^ 
mon frequenters of his doggery, he would relapse into 
a quiet little cat-nap, breaking off in the middle of a 
sentence, and leaving his listeners very much in doubt 
as to his precise meaning. However, when money was 
the subject of his conversation, it was remarked that he 
was always wide-awake, and his most inexorable 
enemy could not have justly accused him of stupid itj^ 
His Dew Drop Inn was a low, rambling structure of 
many irregular angles and unshapely gables. It con- 
sisted of the original main building, long and narrow, 
in which were the saloon and dance-room, where 
nightly, painted outcast women mingled with vile, 
debauched men in lascivious dances, interrupted by 
occasional personal encounters, blasphemings, blows 
and bloodshed. To the main building had been con- 
structed at various times, as election returns would 
warrant, numerous additions of every known style of 


26 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZED. 


architecture, from flat-roofed shed to mansard roof and 
dormer windows. In a remote corner of this rambling 
structure, away from the din and confusion of the 
saloon and dance room, was Snoozer^s private apart- 
ment. It was elegantly furnished, and visitors observed 
at first glance that arrangements for sleeping were 
ample even to the point of luxuriousness, and that com- 
fort in that respect had been one of the chief objects 
in view in the furnishing. The massive high-post bed- 
stead, with wide canopy and heavy damask curtains, 
which, when drawn together, would envelop the occu- 
pant in midnight darkness, the heavy counterpane, 
white as driven snow, and the downy bed and pillows, 
were suggestive of and inviting to repose. Here the 
great man of ‘‘ The Sands” passed three-fourths of his 
time in dead slumber, the balance being about equally 
divided between the business affairs of his establish- 
ment and political jugglery. This was his council 
chamber, the inner court of the charmed circle of his 
power and influence, and, reclining comfortably in his 
easy chair beside the round marble-topped center table, 
he would smile benignantly upon the Honorable M. C. 
and upon the bloated bottle-nosed politician as they 
were secretly ushered into his august presence when 
stars twinkled and the chanticleer loudly proclaimed 
“ the witching hour.” 

Snoozer’s proper name, as names are transmitted, 
was Campos, the name of his great-grandfather, the 
Spaniard, but his debut on the stage of life being left- 
handed and without ])ermission of clergyman or magis- 
trate, his Mongolian mother, acting upon the suggestion 
of a waggish miner in the California mining camp 
where she lived and ushered him into the world, 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZER. 

coined a name for her hybrid offspring. The name 
was, undoubtedly, suggested to the mind of the miner 
on account of the child’s predisposition to ease and 
comfort, and the state of unbroken slumber in which 
a greater portion of his childhood was passed, and 
hence the appropriateness of his adopted name, 
“ Snoozer.” Just how, where or when he came into 
possession of the Michael portion of his name can 
never be known, but the fact remains that it con- 
stituted a part of his cognomen. Howbeit, he had 
never been christened and really had no right to any 
name. 

But it was neither an Honorable M. C. nor a bottle- 
nosed politician with whom Snoozer sat in earnest 
conversation before a glowing coal fire in his council 
chamber that stormy New-Year’s eve. Within the cit}^ 
were sounds of rejoicing, and the great bells tolling a 
sad parting to the old and a joyous welcome to the 
new born year. At ‘‘ The Sands” there was a horrible 
din of discordant sounds, the rattle of dice, the click of 
billiard balls and beer glasses, snatches of obscene 
songs, loud blasphemies, and the echoes of dancing 
feet. The caldron of sin boiled furiousl}^ Imbbled and 
frothed, wafting its fumes toward the city, contam- 
inating its moral atmosphere with that subtle poison 
which wrecks the body and destroys the soul. Around 
and around in cross currents and whirlpools flowed 
the tide of sinful human souls, and Satan held high 
carnival. 

But those two men as they sat in the seclusion of 
the council chamber could only hear faint echoes of 
the din and confusion without, for the walls of the 
apartment had been constructed especially to exclude 


28 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZER. 


sound as well as winter’s cold and summer’s heat, and 
the builder had succeeded admirabl}^ 

Snoozer’s visitor was tall, lithe, graceful, and the 
polished gentleman in manners and conversation, but 
his dark, handsome face bore the sad record of dissi- 
pation. His features seemed never in repose, for even 
when in deep meditation he sat gazing steadily into 
the fire during a pause in the conversation, his face 
was a mirror over which his thoughts floated that one 
might see and read. As he talked he endeavored to 
appear calm and indifferent but the effort the more 
fullv betrayed the mental excitement under which he 
labored. 

Snoozer merely listened to the conversation of his 
visitor, in which he was by no means interested; on the 
contrary, it seemed to annoy him, for he was endeavor- 
ing to think, and the chattering of his companion 
rendered the effort futile. He was endeavoring to 
fathom the most secret thoughts and purposes of his 
guest, and to discover just how much financial blood 
he could draw from him then and there without toiall}^ 
destroying the goose which had long beenlaying golden 
eggs for him. He sat and listened with half closed 
eyes, as though about to sink into a sly cat-nap, leaving 
his visitor to talk to the furniture and the four walls — 
listened and gazed questioningly into his companion’s 
face from the corners of his almond-shaped e3^es, 
reclining comfortably in his easy chair, seemingly 
indifferent to the subject of conversation, and indeed 
to all else in the world save ease and comfort. 

The little French clock on the mantel ticked indus- 
triously, the fire sputtered and roared as dashes of 
snow came down the chimney, and the wind rattled a 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZED. 


29 


loose shutter somewhere on the building, and the roar 
of waves on the beach mingling with the frightful dis- 
cordant sounds from the saloon and dance room, 
invaded even the quietness of the council chamber. 
Suddenly, the great bells of the city, which had been 
tolling a sad parting to the old, began a joyous clang 
and clatter to the new-born year, and a cannon down on 
the shore, even amid the howling storm, boomed out a 
thunderous welcome across the tumultuous bosom of 
the lake; but these two men were deaf to all sounds 
save their own voices, and indifferent to all sentiment 
not encompassed by their immediate personal interests. 
Both were cold, cruel, scheming villains, from whose 
souls every pure and generous impulse had departed, 
and there they sat and heard not the merry peals of 
the bells, nor the booming of the cannon, nor the din 
of the saloon and dance room— sat scheming, plotting 
each against the other, diamond cutting diamond, and 
being cut and crumbled in the process. 

Evidently the subject of their conversation was one 
of grave and urgent importance to the visitor, but a 
matter of extreme indifference to Snoozer, for he 
whistled, shuffled his feet, closed his eyes, yawned and 
said in a half whisper, 

“Let up, pard, w’ats th’ us’ o’ chinnin’ all night ’bout 
w’at nobod}^ knows nothin’ about. I’s told ye all I 
knows — w’at more d’ ye want ? ” 

“ ‘ What more do I want ?’ I want tlie truth and I 
want the papers. You are playing me false or you are 
endeavoring to wring more money from me before ful- 
filling your part of the agreement. I want you to 
understand now that that game won’t win. You are 
‘ as deep in the mud as I am in the mire,’ and you 


30 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZER. 


dare not go back on your word. I paid you in advance 
even more than you demanded, and now you insult me 
by your dogged indifference. The work was done 
three months ago. Sandy was seen in the city to-day, 
and yet you say that he has not reported to you, that 
you have not received the papers or any word from 
him. It is strange, very strange, to say the least.'’ 

The visitor had risen from his chair as he talked and 
advanced a step toward the great Michael, almost 
threateningl}^ 

Snoozer opened his eyes, sat upright, glanced 
fiercely into the face of his guest, filled his pipe from 
the tobacco jar on the table, arose, turned his back to 
the mantle, crossed his hands behind him, and with 
head inclined toward his left shoulder smoked placidly 
a moment, and then in a harsh discordant tone sang: 

When Molly was young, she was pretty and gay, 

But now she is old, and wrinkled and gray; 

Here’s to Molly the young — Dratt Molly the old, 

Nobody would have her with a ship load of gold. 

Fill the bowl to the brim. 

Aye fill up the bowl. 

And drink to young Molly — 

Dratt Molly the old. 

How’s that, pard, for a song ? That’s mine, tune an’ 
all. Didn’t know I was a poet an’ musician, eh?” and 
Snoozer gazed insolently into the face of his guest from 
the corners of his little black eyes, which gleamed 
wickedly. 

Stung by the ironical insolence of the great Michael, 
the young man stood still and mute for a moment, 
while his face changed in color from white to scarlet 
and from scarlet to dead white and his eyes gleamed 
fiercely into Snoozer’ s face, and his form quivered 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZER. 31 

with rage. A moment only did he stand thus, during 
which he gradually assumed the posture of Ajax defy- 
ing the lightning, and then the pent-up torrent of his 
passion leaped, its bounds and he hurled forth a perfect 
avalanche of accusation and denunciation. While he 
talked he had taken up his overcoat and gloves and had 

alked to the door, grasped the knob, and these were 
his parting words : 

“Soulless, murderous villain, accursed wretch! so 
utterly abandoned and depraved that you flippantly 
and insolently ignore and repudiate even the common 
principles and practice of that quality of honor which 
unites into a common brotherhood all evil-doers. I’ll 
quit your accursed presence, and I swear that I will 
neither eat nor sleep until I see you gnawing prison 
bars like a wild beast fresh from the jungles. Curse 
you, a thousand curses on your wicked soul.” As he 
uttered the last words and swung open the door — 

“Stop!” 

It was the voice of Michael Snoozer in thunder tones. 
People heard it as they passed along the street, and 
paused, obedient to that irresistible command, for well 
they knew the voice and the terrible significance of its 
tone. 

“ Stop, I say, stop!” and Michael Snoozer dashed the 
pipe to the hearth, shivering it into fragments, and 
swinging his hands above his head he brought them 
down by his side violently as he thundered forth that 
startling command : 

“ Stop ! ! ! ” 

Charles Barry paused with hand on tlie door knob, 
glanced around over his shoulder at the man who 
stood before the fire, glaring fiercely upon him. 


32 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZER, 


‘‘ Sit down ! ” commanded Snoozer, with voice raided 
but little above liis ordinary tone, while with arm out- 
stretched and quivering forefinger he pointed to the 
chair from which the young man had risen. 

Charles Barry gazed a moment at the towering form 
of his companion, wavered, seemed undecided, but as 
the finger still quivered and pointed at the chair, he 
seemed to feel the force of that silent command and to 
comprehend the danger of opposition, and yielding, he 
closed the door gently, and returned and sat down in 
the chair, still holding his overcoat and hat in his hands. 

Snoozer smiled in his own peculiarly horrible man- 
ner, took from the mantel a cigar box, opened, held it 
towards Barry, and said in his ordinary voice, but in 
the same commanding tone : 

“ Have a smoke ! ” 

Mechanically Barry obeyed, for Snoozer’s invitation 
was but a command, took a cigar from the box which 
he held listlessly in his hand, and looked inquiringly 
into the face of the talking beast. While the animal 
replaced the box on the mantel, lighted a cigar, and 
then resumed his position, with back to the fire and 
hands folded behind him. He stood thus silently sev- 
eral minutes, tracing with his eyes the figures on the 
wall, when, observing that Barry was not smoking, he 
took a match-holder from the mantel and held it out, 
saying : 

‘‘ Have a match ? Light your cigar, pard, and be 
sociable.” 

When Barry had lighted his cigar and leaned back 
in his chair, Snoozer resumed his ])osition and posture 
before the fire, drew the cigar half its length into his 
mouth, closed his teeth upon it and said ; 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZER. 


33 


It’s talking ye wants, is it, pare! ? Why, what’s th’ 
use o’ chinnin’ wen ’t wont do no good ? 1 told ye all I 
knowd at first, an’ that’s th’ end on ’t. Ye’re makin’ a 
great splutter ’bout suthin’, ye don’t know w’at, an’ 
to my ’pinion ye ’d better be sorter reasonable an’ not 
go an’ make a blamed fool o’ y’rself. Y’r cussin’ an’ 
threatenin’ me^ won’t change th’ sito’ation in th’ least, 
and I’d advise ye t’ just cool down a trifie an’ wait 
until I can find out w’at th’ matter is. Ye threatens^ 
does yef Well, now, Sonnie, jist take my advise an’ let 
that job out. Ye’re bound t’ lose in that game — my 
word for it. My lifds in y'r hands, eh f IS’ow that’s 
a good ’un. Why, youngster, ye’re plumb crazj^, clean 
gone, raving mad, ye forgot that ye were at The Sands, 
an’ if I’d just say so, y’r life wouldn’t be worth the 
ashes of a burned straw. lYo, pard, ye’ve too much 
sense t’ blather that-a-way, ye wouldn’t do it if ye 
dared, an’ ye wouldn’t dare to, ye knows it. Now 
that ends that part o’ the biz, an’ w’at next? Why t’ 
tell ye th’ same old story, that I don’t know w’at has 
become of Sandy or th’ papers. He’s got into trouble 
somewhere I spect, an’ can’t let me know ’bout ’t or 
I’d a hearn from him long ago, an’ ye’d had y’r blamed 
papers afore this time. Ye knows well that Sandy 
doused Mark Barry overboard accordin’ as I agreed 
with ye, ye knows that, fer th’ newspapers said that th’ 
old chap had gone into th’ drink in th’ night, an’ that 
was true. Of course we didn’t know exactly how it 
happened, not a bit of it, oh no ! We s’posed he’d got 
up in th’ night t’ get a drink o’ water, an’ not finding 
any on board, got mad an’ tried to swaller th’ lake. 
Howsomever, he hasn’t been hearn from in no shape, 
human or ghost, an’ that Sandy cooked his goose there 


34 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZER. 


can’t be no kind of doubt. Now that’s th’ whole up- 
shot o’ th’ matter, biled down solid, an’ ye may fret 
an’ stew, cuss an’ threaten till y’re black in th’ face, 
an’ crazy as a bed bug, an’ it wont make no kind of 
difference with th’ outcome. Howsomever, ye might 
make a blamed fool o’ y’rself an’ spile y’r chances for 
a fortin’ an’ lose y’r life in th’ bargain, so ye might, 
an’ if that’s what ye wants t’ do, why of course drive 
ahead.” 

He had been chewing the cigar as he talked, and 
having ground it into a pulp, threw it into the fire, 
lighted another and continued : 

“Ye aren’t proceedin’ right anyhow, leastwise, ’t 
wouldn’t be my ticket- th’ way ye thinks o’ doing. 
Ye’ve got hold o’ th’ wrong string, sure an’ if ye con- 
tiner to pull on ’t ye’ll tighten a tangle ye’ll never be 
able to unloose.” 

“ Well, go on, out with it,” said Barry, as he took the 
cigar from his mouth, blew a pearly cloud of smoke 
above his head, and leaning back in his chair, fixed his 
gaze on Snoozer’s face. He had suddenly become 
interested and mollified, for Snoozer’s last words fore- 
shadowed a new scheme, and he was impatient to hear 
it. 

“ Why, here it is,” replied Snoozer, as he twirled the 
cigar in his mouth, leaned back against the mantel, and 
with the fore finger of his right hand beat time to his 
words on the palm of his left : “ It’s right here, plain 
as the nose on a man’s face, an’ if ye’ll only look ye can 
see it with half an eye. Ye want t’ gobble th’ Avhole 
kettle of fish an’ give nobody else even a smell. Ye 
might make it, but ye stand a hundred chances t’ one 
t’ fail, which, if ye did, ye’d lose all^ an’ y’r life in th’ 


Introducing mIciiael snoozer. 


35 


bargain, perhaps. An’ even if ye should vdn, ye’ll 
never be clear o’ danger, for ye never can tell w’at will 
turn up in futer w’en ye have people t’ deal with that 
knows y’r secrets, an^ that ye have t’ pay hush money 
to, t’ keep their fly-traps shut an’ their tasters from 
waggin’. Now, here’s th’ pint : Ye’ve got rid o’ th’ old 
man, y’r uncle, w’at had th’ money ye wants. Good 
enough so far; he’s safe at th’ bottom o’ th’ lake, an’ 
nobody but Snoozer knows who pulled th’ wires t’ put 
him there, an’ I’m not goin’ t’ squeal so long as ye treats 
me right ; so ye’re safe enough there. W’at next ? Why 
this : If ye try t’ smouge th’ whole pot, don’t ye see, 
ye’ll get y’rself into a row witlith’ Worshams! Them 
law scrapes are bad pills for diseases ; they’re not made 
t’ cure, an’ so, if ye goes t’ law about it, ye may get a 
physic that doctors don’t deal out ; ye may get y’rself 
badly scratched in the fight — all hacked t’ pieces by 
w’at them law fellers calls th’ double-edged sword of 
Justice. Eh? ” Eeceiving an affirmative nod, he con- 
tinued: “ Well, now I’m gettin’ down t’ hard pan, an’ 
here it is: when ye get them papers, just put fire t’ 
’em, gather up th’ ashes an’ scatter ’em out on the lake. 
That cussed will ye wants t’ get out o’ th’ way, an’ th’ 
other papers wont do ye no good. They might do ye 
harm, howsomever, by blowin’ up th’ whole ranch if 
found about ye, ’cause everybody knows that Mark 
Barry had them with him when he concluded t’ go 
down t’ th’ bottom of th’ lake t’ find out w’at was thar. 
Yes, burn ’em all up, for that’s th’ winnin’ card, or my 
name aren’t Snoozer. W’at then ? Don’t ye see, pard ? 
Plain as a speck on y’r eyelash. Now I’ve come t’ 
bed rock, an’ we’ll pan out th’ dust. Here it is : That 
will out of th’ way, ye’ll get half th’ property at once. 


3 ^ 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZER. 


as there’s but two straight heirs of ye. Well, ye’ll get 
a hundred thousand at least. Good ! good enough so 
far — then w’at? Now, jDard, the yaller dust begins t’ 
pan out handsomely, an’ here it is all washed out. 
Sweeten th’ old woman’s coffee some fine morning, an’ 
then, when ye gets ready, marry th’ daughter. Ye’re 
on good terms with her, according to y’r tell, an’ ye 
can do it slick as mice.” 

As Snoozer talked, young Berry seemed deeply inter- 
ested. He changed position in his chair momentarily, 
and a deep crimson flush crept over his face. From 
the corners of his almond-shaped eyes, Snoozer narrowly 
watched the effect of his words, and he was gratified 
by the prospect of more “ hush money,” which his plans, 
when executed, would bring to him. As Snoozer uttered 
the last words, young Barry sprang to his feet, grasped 
his hand and exclaimed, excitedly: ‘‘You’re right, 
Snoozer. You are right, and I’ll do it I True, she is 
my cousin, but Avhat of that? She likes me, I believe, 
and will become my wife if her mother’s objections can 
safely be removed in the way you propose. Will you 
undertake the affair ? ” 

Snoozer remained silent a moment, looking down 
steadily into Barry’s eyes, while the corners of his . 
huge mouth began to creep back toward his ears, his 
face contorted, and wrinkles radiated from the corners 
of his eyes. A horrid grin was on his face as he 
drooped his head over on his left shoulder, and an- 
swered, I might, 'pard,foTjpayP 

“ Will a thousand dollars be enough ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Done. And now,” continued Barry, as he took 
out his pocketbook, opened it with trembling hands, 


INTRODUCING MICHAEL SNOOZER. 


37 


drew forth a bank note and handed it to Snoozer, 
“ here is a trifle in advance, would give you more, but 
can not spare it to-night for I have had a bad run of 
luck lately. However, this will be something on 
account, and you may as well have it now.” As he 
talked he put on his overcoat and hat, drew on his 
left glove and put on his fur muffler. Then he ad- 
vanced and extended his right hand to Snoozer, saying : 
“ And now, good night. We understand each other 
thoroughly I believe, and I shall do nothing without 
having previously consulted you.” There was a clasp- 
ing of hands, a cordial parting, and then the door 
closed behind Charles Barry, and Snoozer was alone. 
He stood awhile looking toward the door, chewed his 
cigar and smiled grimly. Then he straightened out 
the crumpled bank note, held it up In the light and 
said, as he closely examined it : “A figure five and a 
horse collar behind it — fifty. All right, Barry, I’ll 
attend t’ th’ biz, depend on it. I know which side of 
my bread is buttered.” 

Half an hour later Snoozer was snugly ensconced 
in bed trumpeting forth nasal music loud and sonor- 
ous, while the fire sank down in the grate, and the 
council chamber was shrouded in darkness. 


CHAPTKE ly. 

A GENEROUS DONATION. 

New-Year’s day was being generally celebrated 
throughout the city. It was an occasion of general 
festivity and rejoicing, and the Garden City was merry 
and sparkling. People seemed to have agreed each 
with the other to appropriately celebrate the day 
regardless of business affairs or the inclemency of the 
weather. In the business portion of the city, Sabbath 
quietness reigned, the stores were closed and silent, and 
only an occasional pedestrian hurried along, leaning 
against the cutting wind and wading through drifting 
snow. In the residence portion, particularly along the 
beautiful avenues bordering the lake, sleigh bells jingled 
merrily and gay young people sitting very close 
together under elegant fur robes, dashed along at full 
speed, in cutters behind spirited horses. Fashionable 
gentlemen abroad making New- Year's calls passed in 
and out of those stately mansions, and ripples of laugh- 
ter floated out from spacious halls and vestibules as 
doors were opened for visitors to pass. In homes of 
‘‘ the masses,” children romped and played with toys, 
while parents joined in the general hilarity and were 
children again. In homes of the poor, God help them, 
when bitter, pinching want, and gaunt hunger are per- 
petual guests, children shivered over stoves barely 
warm or played with home-made toys, while old 
folks sat close together with sad faces, talking in low 
tones, thinking over and living again the happiness of 

3a 


A GENEROUS DONATION. 


39 


childhood. And so, from millionaire to beggar, the 
day was a golden leaf in the record-book of the year? 
and all seemed determined to make the most of the 
occasion, and to snatch pleasure from the selfish 
skeleton hands of every-(jay life. 

Kudolph Merryfellow arose early that Kew-Year’s 
morning, even before the servant had lighted a fire in 
the kitchen stove. It was not without a severe 
struggle with disinclination to face the whistling cut- 
ting wind and frosty air, that finally he slipped away 
from the side of his dear little wife, and left her and 
young Merryfellow sleeping peacefully and resting 
from the fatigue of the previous two days’ journey. 

As Merryfellow closed his front gate and faced the 
freezing northern blast, he heartily wished himself 
back under the warm bed-clothes. He hesitated, with 
hand on the latch, looked up and down the street wist- 
fully, muttered something about the long walk and 
bitter cold, drew on his heavy fur gloves, adjusted his 
ear muffs and scarf, and then with sudden energy hur- 
ried away toward the commercial center of the city. 

He rattled along, first at a fast walk, whistling a 
merry tune, his feet keeping time on the frosty stone 
pavement to the measure of his music, and then as the 
nipping cold penetrated his clothing, his speed was 
increased to a trot, and finally to a run which would 
have done credit to a champion sprinter. As he ran, 
his body was bent forward like a diver preparing to 
spring, his arms swung back and forth by his sides as 
one in the act of swimming, and his long strides meas- 
ured the pavement with astonishing rapidity. 

By foundries, work shops, factories and markets, 
through banks of drifted snow and over treacherous 


40 


A GENEROUS DONATION. 


street crossings, with the speed of a thoroughbred 
matched for the sweepstakes. On, on, until as he 
reached the corner of Lake and Wells streets (now 
Fifth avenue), he slackened speed and turned down 
Lake street toward the Union depot. 

The sun was just rising from the bosom of the lake, 
tinting the blue waters with gold and purple, flushing 
the sk\^ with vermillion and chasing away the shadows 
of early dawn, Merryfellow walked slowly, looking up 
at the buildings, paused frequently and glanced around, 
as though searching for some familiar object. And 
thus with his hands clasped behind him, he sauntered 
along, until finally he started forward at a quick pace 
with the exclamation, “there it is, that is the place.” 
He floundered across the street through the deep snow, 
reached the opposite pavement, walked half a square, 
paused before the wall of a half-finished building, and 
as he glanced up at the bare walls, towering above him, 
and then over at the tall building with iron shutters 
across the way, he muttered in a satisfied tone, “ Yes, 
this is the place beyond a doubt. It was here beside 
this wall that the sack and I parted company so 
unceremoniously, and unless some prowling rag picker 
has forestalled me, the sack is safe under the snow 
very near where I now stand.” Seizing a long stick 
leaning against the Avail, he began poking vigorously 
in the snow, and not until the hitherto smooth surface 
presented the appearance of a plowed field did he 
desist, and, throAving doAAm the stick, exclaimed : “ No 
use, it is gone.” 

An hour later, MerryfelloAV Avas in his own beautiful 
home seated at breakfast, and doing ample justice to a 
bounteous repast. His early morning walk and vigor- 


A GENEROUS DONATION 


41 


ous exercise had sharpened his appetite wonderfully, 
and he devoured food in quantities that would have 
astonished and horrified a boarding-house keeper. Of 
course Merry fellow could not talk, being more pleas- 
antly and profitably occupied at the time, and, indeed, 
the demands of his voracious appetite would not per- 
mit a moment’s intermission. Trim, bright, light and 
sparkling Mrs. Merryfellow entirely monopolized the 
conversation; not from choice, but simply force of 
necessity. She could not endure dead silence, broken 
only by crunching of food (a habit with Merryfellow 
which she had in despair ceased to endeavor to correct), 
and so she laughed, sparkled and said pretty things in 
her own pretty way, much to the delight of her 
hungry spouse, \ngorously he shoveled the food into 
his mouth with knife and fork, right and left, and then 
both together; listened delightedly, and laughed as he 
chewed, mumbling words of approval, smothered and 
inaudible, but expressing with his eyes what his mouth 
failed to convey. True, she had much to talk about — 
the pleasant incidents of her visit to her parents at her 
dear old home in ISTew Jersey, of the pleasant reunions 
of childhood playmates — and companions of more 
mature years, of her meetings and conversations with 
the friends of her girlhood, who of them had married 
and appeared to regret it, how many encumbrances 
each possessed, how they lived, agreeably or other- 
wise, the degree of their material prosperity or mis- 
fortune, and so on ad infinitum. . To this wonderful 
hash of news and revelations of family and personal 
secrets, she added and mixed, as she went along, a 
lively variety of wit, sarcasm and mirth, quite amusing. 
The nurse was “crooning” young Merryfellow in the 


42 


A GENEROUS DONATION, 


adjoining room, and the shrill discordant notes of her 
lullaby served as an appropriate accompaniment to 
mamma’s musical ripples of laughter, and papa’s hoarse 
smothered exclamations of delight, while the plaintive 
wail of young Merryfellow formed a charming quar- 
tette, strange, original, and highly entertaining. 

As for Merryfellow, he could not have talked had 
he been at leisure. He might have caressed his charm- 
ing little wife, as he had already done numberless 
times since her return, told her how dearly he 
loved her, vowing that he would suffer himself to be 
roasted alive just to afford her one moment’s happiness, 
and then smile in his peculiar manner at her witty 
response, that she would prefer not to have him 
roasted, being quite satisfied with him raw^ and natural. 
However, that subject exhausted, he would have been 
at a dead lock, and, for want of other amusement, 
would doubtless have seized young Merryfellow and 
danced a hornpipe in exuberance of spirits, and for the 
joint entertainment of mamma, the kitchen wench and 
the nurse. The truth is, that he would have had no 
pleasant subject to discuss, for his three months’ grass 
widowerhood had not been a pathway strewm with 
roses, nor his lonely couch ‘‘ a flowery bed of ease.” 
At best he could have talked of business matters, 
which, under the circumstances, would have been 
shockingly inappropriate, and so it was fortunate that 
his sunbeam could draw from an exhaustless treasury 
of pleasant incident, spiced with wit and humor, else 
their breakfast might have been partaken of in silence, 
broken only by munching of food, the plaintive wail of 
young Merryfellow, and the soul harrowing howl of 
the nurse. 


A GENEROUS DONATION. 




It is well that we have more clouds than sunshine, 
more sorrow than joy, else we would but lightly value 
the choicest gifts of our Heavenly Father. It is well 
that the way is rugged and thorn3^ and the heights 
difficult to ascend, that cares, sorrows and vexations 
meet and buffet us at every step, that only by toil of 
brain or hands may we secure the substantial comforts, 
and the pure pleasures of life, else we would grow 
weary of an easy down-hill way, and, surfeited with 
pleasure, we would be strangers to keen enjoyment, 
and life would become an insupportable burden. 

If, then, after their three months’ separation, and 
weary longings for the sweet companionship never 
before so thoroughly appreciated, these twin souls 
drank deep again from the fountain of pure affection 
and rejoiced in the sunlight of each other’s presence, 
what wonder ? — since all of life worth living for is the 
pure, unselfish love we bear one another. 

Merryfellow laid down his knife and fork, drained 
from his cup the last drop of coffee, leaned back in his 
chair and confessed himself as thoroughly satisfied. 
Still he hesitated and looked wistfully at the coffee- 
pot, and as with one hand he drew his napkin across 
his mouth and with the other lifted his cup and held it 
out, he said, in a coaxing tone quite irresistible, “ only 
another drop of coffee. Sugar-plum, to keep this piece 
of muffin company. I declare it is a pity to let it 
spoil, of course I’m not hungry, but will eat it from 
motives of economy.” The cup was received by glad, 
dimpled little hands, and, instead of a drop or so (she 
knew him so thoroughly), was filled to the brim and 
sweetened just to his taste, as only she knew how to 
do, and while he sipped and played with his spoon she 


44 


A GENEROUS DONATION. 


prattled merrily, his deep basso voice chiming in now 
and then by way of approval. Finally she paused in 
the middle of a sentence, listened attentively a moment, 
arose, went to the window, hastily swung back the 
inside blind and looked out. ‘‘What is it, dear,” he 
asked expectantly^ 

“Only Mrs. Worsham, across the way,” she replied; 
“ I thought some one opened the front gate, but it was 
only she opening their front blinds.” 

Returning, she resumed her seat and continued, 
“ That reminds me, dear, we are so happy ourselves 
that we forget others. We have everything heart can 
desire — health, affection and a bountiful supply of the 
good things of this world.” While she talked in a 
low, emotional tone, somehow his chair, even as he sat 
upon it, glided around until he was close by her side. 
Somehow his arm found its way around her trim little 
waist, while his face moved around in front of hers. 
As she uttered the last word, it was partially smoth- 
ered by two lips, which by some singular accident, 
came in contact with hers, and the noise of the con- 
cussion startled young Merry fellow, who had just 
fallen asleep, aroused the nurse from a rapturous dream 
of her William Henry Augustus Saint George, brought 
the wench from the kitchen to inquire if the water 
pipe had “ busted,” and awoke Towser, who had been 
snoozing quietly on the hearth, dreaming of hisnuiner- 
ous progeny just around the corner in a neighbor’s 
back yard, and scrambling to his feet, with his short, 
black hair all turned the wrong way, he snapped 
viciously at a chair leg and then elevated his nose and 
howled. This slight occurrence demoralized the coun- 
cil, and it was not until the nurse and cook were at 


A GENEROUS DONATION, 


45 


breakfast, and the Merry fellows were seated very close 
together before the fire in their charming little sitting- 
room, that the conversation was resumed. ‘‘ I w^as 
about to say, when you, naughty dear, smothered my 
words and almost created a panic in the house — why 
can’t you kiss softly, just so, love?” and, as she pressed 
her mouth to his, the merriest little smack imaginable 
followed, which could not have been heard ten feet, and 
as Merryfellow leaned back again in his chair, he 
smacked his lips as though he had just put a sugar plum 
in his mouth. ‘‘ That is the way, dear,” she added, with 
a merry twinkle of her eyes, ‘‘ but you’ll never learn 
my way, I’ve tried so long to teach you and you don’t 
improve in the least.” Then she arose, took a bottle 
of cologne from the mantel and moistened his mus- 
tache with some of the contents (he was an awful 
smoker), replaced the bottle on the mantel, resumed 
her seat by his side and continued, ‘‘Well, dear, I was 
saying we are so happy that we forget others, even at 
our very door, those who in early life, to say the least, 
were quite as comfortably situated as we are at this 
moment, and doubtless very happy. I allude to Mrs. 
Worsham.” 

“Yes, Worsham was once very wealthy, I knew 
him when I was a mere lad,” responded Merryfellow, 
thoughtfully. 

“ Yes,” continued his wife, “and Mrs. Worsham is 
now very poor — for ought we know, in utter destitu- 
tion. I was thinking of it this morning as I lay in 
bed, feeling so disappointed to find you gone, and then 
I thought what a silly little goose I am to want to 
cling to you every minute. Yes, then in some way, I 
don’t know what brought it into my mind, unless an 


46 


A GENEROUS DONATION. 


angel whispered to me, I began thinking of Mrs. Wor- 
sham, and that sweet, modest girl, her daughter Grace, 
and I wondered whether they would have a good din- 
ner to-day and feel happy. I feared not, and the 
thought troubled me exceedingly. Then I began won- 
dering whether they have plenty of fuel this bitter 
cold weather, and I was so troubled about it that I 
couldn’t rest in bed, and so got up, and at that moment, 
dear, you came and I was so glad that I forgot all 
about it until I saw Mrs. Worsham open the shutters. 
And now, I want you to do something for me, will 
you, dear?” 

‘‘ Will If ” 

“ But it is asking a great deal, dear.” 

“ What is it, Dolly ? ” 

Oh, but you must promise you will do it before I 
tell you.” 

“ Well, then — yes, out with it, ducky.” 

“ Oh, you are such a precious dear,” she replied, strok- 
ing his beard playfully. ‘‘ [N^ow hold up your head and 
look me right in the eyes, for I want to be sure that 
you understand and sympathize with me.” Putting 
her right hand under his chin she held his face up, and 
as he leaned toward her, resting on the arm of her 
chair, she looked into his ej^es and continued : “ This 
is Avhat I want, just put on your overcoat, hat and 
gloves, and wrap up nice and warm and trot down 
town like the good, precious, generous dear you truly 
are. Find the largest, choicest turkey imaginable, put 
it into a box, get two or three pounds of butter, a large 
can of fresh oysters, some canned fruit, corn, tomatoes, 
two or three pounds of nice cheese, and everything 
nice and good to eat you can think of. Put all in the 


A GENEROUS DONATION. 


47 


box and this with it,” and she handed him a dainty 
note which he drew from the envelope and read aloud: 

God has Messed two persons with health.^ and love^ 
and plenty., and has given them a little angel to love and 
cherish., all in one short year. Therefmv, in joyful 
gratitude to our Heavenly Father for those Messing s., we 
send to you these trifling gifts and heg you to accept of 
them and to rejoice with us on this., the flrst day of 
the New Year.'^^ 

As he read the last words she said, “ And I want 
you to put a five dollar bill in this note and pin it to 
the leg of the turkey, then nail the lid on the box and 
send it to Mrs. "Worsham, so she will not know who 
sent it, won’t you, dear, for me f ” 

As she talked, her ever-beautiful face was radiant, 
there was much feeling and earnestness in her voice, 
and tears came in her soft blue eyes. Gradually her 
chair had moved around until she almost faced him, 
and little by little she leaned forward on his knees, 
while as she talked her hands crept up his arms to his 
shoulders. Little by little also she had moved closer 
to him and upward, until, as she uttered the last words, 
her arms encircled his neck and her chair was vacant. 
Gradually also his great brawny arms had crept around 
her waist, and then she reclined in his embrace like a 
babe on its mother’s bosom. Her words had gone 
straight to his great generous heart and it was swept 
by a flood of emotion strong and deep. As she paused 
for a reply his eyes were moist, and as he looked down 
on her fair, upturned face two dew drops, heart-dis- 
tilled, coursed down his bronzed cheeks. His voice 
quivered perceptibly as he replied, “ Will I do it, Dolly, 
dear ? Why, to be sure I will ; could I deny you any- 


48 


A GENEROUS DONATION. 


thing ? Immediately there followed a sound as of a 
passing bird, the tiniest little flutter imaginable, a half 
smothered exclamation of delight, a mysterious sound 
as of a tight-fitting cork being suddenly drawn from a 
full bottle, and as little Dolly Merry fellow fluttered to 
her feet from the arms of her spouse her face wore a 
charming flush and her eyes beamed with an indescrib- 
able light. “ There, dear, that will do now (with 
decided emphasis on the last word, now). I’ll fetch 
your overcoat and hat and bundle you up nice and 
warm, and then you must hurry away like a dear, gen- 
erous hubby that you are, bless you.” Quick little 
feet in number one and a half gaiters scampered away 
and came back in a moment, and charming little dim- 
pled hands buttoned the great coat over Merryfellow’s 
broad chest while he stood like a great giant, quiet and 
tractable, looking down smilingly on his charming lit- 
tle wife. 

‘‘ There now, good-by, hubby dear,” she said, patting 
him on the back as he stood in the front door, all bun- 
dled and fixed, as only she could do. ‘‘ How trot fast 
and hurry back, for I can’t spare you long.” 

As he reached the pavement, he threw back a kiss 
on his great gloved hand, while she pouted her lips to 
catch it, and then, as he hurried away, she closed the 
door softly and returned to the sitting-room, took 
young Merryfellow from the crib, and, sitting down in 
the low rocking chair before the fire, sang to him a 
soft, sweet lullaby. 

As ^lerryfellow hurried along toward the city mar- 
ket, he fell into a train of thought and conjecture with 
reference to the contents of the sack which he had 
found and lost. Suddenly he paused, removed his 


A GENEROUS DONATION. 


49 


right glove, unbuttoned his great-coat and felt in the 
inside pocket. An expression of blank amazement 
came on his face as he vigorously searched that 
capacious pocket, and he muttered disappointedly, 
‘‘ Gone, by jingo ! There’s a hole in the bottom, but it 
couldn’t have gone through that.” He stooped down 
and felt the skirt of his great-coat, but shook his head 
as he straightened up, saying: ‘‘Ho use, it is gone — 
leaked out over the top — too bad, by Jingo ! ” 


CHAPTER Y. 


rOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 

Little Jim hurried along the street as fast as his 
feeble limbs could perform their functions, but he shiv- 
ered as he ran, and whipped his thin, bare hands against 
his body, for they were very numb and cold. The wind 
twisted the sack around on his shoulder, and the deep 
snow impeded his progress, and his efforts exhausted 
his strength, but he dared not pause for rest, as the 
cold was intense, his clothing scant and his blood thin, 
and he knew that death followed close in his footsteps. 

On, on, by great buildings, silent and cheerless ; by 
toy shops where w^ere temptingly displayed beautiful 
and amusing things made to gladden young hearts ; by 
confectioners, where choice candies and delicious fruits 
were arrayed in rich profusion, to tempt the passer-by; 
on, by bakeries where fresh loaves of bread, rich, yellow 
cheese, delicious coffee rolls, warm and white with 
powdered sugar, where beautiful loaves of yellow cake, 
fresh and fragrant, and fruit cake that would melt in 
one’s mouth, and mince pies fresh from the oven. On, 
on, with feeble, tottering steps, leaning against the cut- 
ting wind ; on, by markets where were displayed splen- 
did rounds and joints of meat, strings of sausage and 
rolls of head cheese; by restaurants from which came 
delightful odors of roasting meats, boiling coffee and 
stewing fruits to tempt the hungry. He longed to 
stop — to feast his eyes on all these beautiful and tempt- 
ing things — but remembering the stern commands of 

50 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 


51 


old Skinner, he hurried on, even Avhile gaunt and relent- 
less hunger gnawed his vitals, demanding either food 
or life. 

He had not tasted food since noon the previous day, 
and even then (his weak stomach refusing the coarse, 
nauseous food) he had merely tasted, pushed his plate 
aside and crept away to his little stool in the cor- 
ner the heat-proof stove, leaving old Skinner to 
devour the last crumb and polish the plates Avith his 
tongue. 

Weak and faint, he trudged along, facing the freez- 
ing wind, AA^hile tears floAved down his Avan face. Poor, 
friendless child, almost naked, starving, driven out in 
the cold to hunt like a dog for food. 

Finally he turned into Buffalo street, noAV known as 
Fourth avenue, tottered along under his heavy burden, 
passed on several squares, Avhen he turned into a dark, 
narroAV alley and paused in front of an old building. 
Leaning against the door frame, he knocked loudly on 
the door several times ere his summons Avas answered. 
Then there Avas a rattling of iron bolts and bars, the 
clanking of chains and the screeching of a key in a 
rusty lock, and the moldy door swung slowly back 
on its crazy hinges — backward a little AA^ay — and the 
salloAAq shriveled face of an old JeAv AA^as thrust through 
the opening. 

Oh, it is you, youngster,” he said, in a cracked 
voice, and in the peculiar accent of his race. “ What 
you got, eh, rags, bapier or rope ? ” 

^‘Eags and paper,” Avas the feeble repl}^ 

Yell, why you no come in ? Yat you sthan an’ look 
at me so hard for?” responded the Jew, pettishly. 
“ Come in, I say,” and as he swung the door open. 


52 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 


Jimmie staggered in and emptied the contents of his 
sack on the floor. 

‘‘How many pounds/’ demanded the Jew as lie 
shiveringly blew his breath on his cold, shriveled hands, 
and stamped his feet impatiently. 

“ I don’t know exactly,” was the hesitating reply. 

“Yell / don’t. I’m sure,” snarled the Jew as he 
kicked the rags and paper over with his foot evi- 
dently estimating their weight and value, “ How much 
you want for him.” 

“Twenty-five cents,” replied Jimmie with energy. 

In response, the Jew puckered his shriveled lips, 
elevated his chin until his gaze rested on the ceiling, 
gave vent to a prolonged whistle, followed by a number 
of swinish grunts in quick succession, and then exclaimed 
Twenty-five cent! you are crazy poy, an’ old 
Skinner is a fool. Now you just put him all in der sack 
und dakes him right home to dot old rascal Skinner, und 
dell him dot old Jacobs sends his gombliments mit der 
new year, dot’s all. Und just dell him I vont bays dot 
much monish, und dot I can buy more as dwice dot 
much rags und bapier, for twenty-five cent, any day.” 

“ How much will you give,” inquired Jimmie, timidly. 

“How much I give, eh? Yell let me see,” and the 
Jew stooped down and clawed over the icy rags, 
handled them one by one, slowly estimating their 
value, all the while mumbling, in broken English, in 
a whining tone, accompanied by vehement gestures, 
bitter complaints of the quality and quantity of the 
articles. Finally, with a beastly grunt, strongly 
expressive of disgust, he arose to his feet, gave the 
rags a parting kick, and replied, “ Yell I give you 
twelve cent, you take him, eh ?” 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 


53 


No, I won’t take it,” replied Jimmie, gathering 
up the rags and thrusting them vigorously into the 
sack. 

“Yell den, just dakes him home to dot old miser 
Skinner,” replied the Jew as he turned away and 
began to overhaul a lot of old iron, assorting it into 
different piles according to quality. 

In a few moments Jimmie had replaced the rags in 
the sack, lifted it to his shoulder, and turned to go, 
when the Jew, who was kneeling at his work, arose to 
his feet and called out, “ So you take him back to 
Skinner, eh ?” 

“ No,” replied Jimmie, quietly, “ I shall go to Nuss- 
baum’s.” 

“ He vont give you so much as I,” whined the Jew, 
persuasively. 

“I don’t know about that, but I. shall go there,” 
responded Jimmie, moving toward the door. 

“ Come now my leidle sonnie, how much you dakes^ 
for him, anyhow, sure ?” inquired Jacobs as he groveled 
toward the boy, whined and leered horribly, disclosing 
the two black, broken snags of front teeth — all that 
remained in his jaws, “How much you dakes for him 
now und no more fooling about him?” 

“ I told you twenty-live cents.” 

“ Oh, pshaw ! nonsense, Jimmie, come now, I gives 
3^ou dwenty cent und never a penny more, dots all, you 
dakes him eh?” 

Jimmie hesitated a moment, slowly returned, opened 
the sack, emptied the contents on the ground and 
silently held out his hand to the Jew, who in turn 
silently placed the money in his palm, and then the 
boy silently departed. 


54 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 


Jimmie, as he hurried along, could put his thin cold 
hands in his pockets, and, relieved of the burden, could 
run faster. The sack was large and heavy and he 
drew it around his shoulders like a cape, fastened it 
to his neck with a pin, allowing the long ends to hang 
down in front, and then went forward at a quick pace, 
which increased to a run as he turned up Clark Street. 
His speed was materially accelerated by a mind picture 
of old Skinner, which flitted before him, and the 
remembrance of that individual’s parting injunction, 
that even a small quantity of nauseous foodwould be with- 
held if he loitered by the way. Therefore he ran with 
all the speed of which his feeble limbs were capable, 
until, in a beautiful portion of the city on a broad avenue, 
he paused breathlessly before an elegant three-story 
stone front building, ascended the broad flight of steps, 
rang the bell timidly and then stepped into the vesti- 
bule out of the cutting wind. His summons was 
quickly answered by a young woman elegantly attired, 
but on whose face was the hand-writing of vice and the 
certificate and seal of dissipation, that the world might 
read and know the hopeless depths to which she had 
fallen. 

Yes, Mr. Grube is at home, she said kindl}^ in reply 
to his inquiry, and she conducted Jimmie up two flights 
of stairs, along a dark hall which gave back a ringing 
echo of their tread like footfalls on the stone pavement 
of a vault. Finally she paused before a door, knocked 
and listened, waited and knocked again, and again 
waited and listened. Keceiving no invitation to enter, 
and hearing no sound within, she called softly, 
“Foxey !” The effect of that one word was magical, 
for within there immediately followed the sound of 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 


55 


bome one hastily rising — the rustle of a newspaper, the 
approach of footsteps, and then the door swung noise- 
lessly open. Before them stood a man holding a news- 
paper in his hand and smoking a cigar. He wore a 
dressing gown and slippers, had evidently just break- 
fasted and was enjoying his morning cigar and news- 
paper. 

He was a very handsome man, rather above medium 
height, slender, yet of fine muscular development, 
while his features were regular, his complexion very 
fair and the flush of robust health mantled his cheeks. 
He had dark blue laughing eyes, and his blonde hair 
was cut short and brushed back from a very handsome 
forehead, and his long silken blonde mustache and 
imperial were waxed and twisted in the peculiar French 
style. His movements were quick and graceful and his 
manner that of one thoroughly world-wise. But 
beyond and below all this, there was a mysterious 
something about the man which impressed at first 
glance even the casual observer — a something which 
seemed stamped upon every feature and betrayed by 
every movement, saying am a fast, foppish fraud.’’^ 

A strong perfume of musk, almost stifling, per- 
vaded the apartment, and to Jimmie, as he looked in 
through the open door, the cheerful fire in the grate 
was very inviting, and suggestive of a degree of com- 
fort to which the poor child had ever been an utter 
stranger. 

“Why, is it you, Jimmie?’’ inquired the man in a 
pleasant tone. What brought you here, and so early ? 
come in, you look tired and cold.” As Jimmie passed 
into the room and approached the cheerful fire, which 
glowed and sputtered in the grate, Grube bowed 


56 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 


politely to the woman and thanked her, and as she dis- 
appeared in the darkness of the hall, he closed the door 
brought a chair for Jimmie, sat down in his easy cush- 
ioned arm rocker before the fire and said, “Well, Jim- 
mie, what can I do for you ? ” In reply, the child sim- 
ply delivered his uncle’s message, which Grube perused 
attentively, after which he remained silent a few 
moments, during which he looked steadily into the 
mass of burning coal in the grate, and thus meditated 
audibl}^: “Wonder what the old villain wants of me? 
Singular, eight o’clock sharp, to-night. Hump ! some 
rascality on hand. I’ll wager. Some dirty work or foul 
wire-pulling to be done and wants a tool to use for that 
purpose. Don’t like the idea, he’s as dangerous as fire, 
keen as a razor, treacherous as an Indian and quite as 
heartless — and, to complete his character, I may add, 
that he is as mean as a hungry, yellow, cur dog. I will 
go, of course, but will keep my ej^es and ears open, my 
tongue still, and shall think four or five times before I 
speak. Even then, if he don’t trick me in some way I 
shall be exceedingly fortunate.” 

While Grube muttered his thoughts in disjointed sen- 
tences, barely audible, Jimmie was making a mental 
survey of the room. He was evidently delighted as he 
examined the elegant velvet carpet, the handsome 
carved walnut furniture, and the rare and beautiful 
pictures in massive frames on the wall. He looked 
attentively and wonderingly at the beautiful clusters 
of vines and choice blooming plants wliich adorned the 
bay window, and he was charmed by the sweet notes 
of the mocking bird in its gilded wire cage and with 
the gold fishes in the aquarium. His hitherto sad face, 
caught a new and strange light as he gazed, and hi? 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 57 

glassy, sunken eyes borrowed expression from the beau- 
tiful things they beheld. 

For the moment Foxey Grube had forgotten the boy, 
so absorbed was he by his own meditations, yet nom- 
inally he was conscious of his presence. In the very 
midst of his cogitations, Grube suddenly realized the 
boy’s profound stillness, and looking around at him, 
caught the bewildered, enraptured expression of his 
face, and laughed outright. Jimmie started as though 
rudely awakened from a dream, flashed an inquiring 
glance toward Grube, and then as their eyes metj 
Jimmie blushed, glanced down at his old worn out shoes 
and tattered garments, clasped his hands together on 
his knees and bashfully twirled his thumbs. 

‘‘So you like the room, do you, Jimmie?” was 
Grube’s laughing inquiry. 

“Yes, sir; it is very beautiful,” was the flattering 
reply, in a voice barely audible, while he rubbed his 
hands, twirled his thumbs nervously, and with face 
partly averted looked steadily into the fire. _ 

“What is there about the room you like particu- 
larly ? ” 

“ Oh, sir, everything — the bird, the flowers, the beau- 
tiful gold fishes,” — he raised his face, glanced around 
the room wistfully, and added, “and the beautiful 
carpet, and furniture and pictures — and — and — ” then 
came a pause, during which Grube puffed his fragrant 
Havana and Jimmie looked thoughtfully into the 
fire. 

Finally Grube broke the silence, saying in a kind, 
reassuring tone, “ Well, what else in the room do you 
admire? you said and — and” — 

“ The nice smell, sir.” 


58 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 


At that Foxey Grube laughed immoderateh^, during 
which Jimmie continued to twirl his thumbs and watch 
the blaze of the burning coal as it curled gracefully up 
the chimney. 

‘‘Well, well, it is too bad, my little fellow,” said 
Grube, regretfully, observing Jimmie's embarrassment, 
as he wiped the tears from his eyes on a strongly per- 
fumed white silk handkerchief, “but don’t mind my 
laughing ; it is of no consequence whatever, and don’t 
mean anything. Still,” he continued in a subdued, 
confidential tone, as though addressing an imaginary 
third person, “ it is really a joke on me, for the room 
is rather strongly perfumed.” Then, raising his voice 
to its ordinary conversational tone, he added the 
affirmative inquiry, “ Your uncle don’t live quite as 
comfortably as I do, eh ? ” 

“Oh, no sir!” was the quick, energetic reply. 
■“ Uncle says he can’t afford to live comfortably, he is 
too poor.” 

“Jerusalem crickets— too poor!” exclaimed Grube, 
holding his sides as he laughed, chopping out between 
paroxysms, expressive adjectives not altogether free from 
profanity, and coupled to Skinner’s name were in no 
degree complimentary or laudatory of his character or 
veracity. Grube’s adjectives were so thoroughly mixed 
and scattering as to render his precise meaning and 
references matters of extreme uncertainty to the 
untrained ears and feeble understanding of his listener, 
who stared at him in blank amazement. 

“ So, your uncle is jpoor^'' said Grube, when suffi- 
ciently composed to speak intelligibly. 

“ Yes, sir; very poor,” w^as the sad reply. “Uncle 
never has any money except what I earn, and he pays 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 


59 


all that out for something to eat, and sometimes when 
the weather is very cold and we have to use much coal, 
or when I find but few rags we have but little to eat.” 

Foxey Grube’s face changed expression as the child 
discoursed in weak, plaintive tones. His reckless, 
don’t-care demeanor gave place to a womanly sympathy 
and solicitude, and, as the boy paused and with a sigh 
looked again at the bright blaze as it curled up the 
chimney, Grube gazed pityingly on the wan, shriveled 
young face before him. 

“ Are you not sick often, Jimmie,” inquired Grube, 
in a tone so altered and kind that the boy glanced up 
inquiringly, and, as their eyes met, felt an almost irre- 
sistible desire to run and put his arms around Grube’s 
neck and kiss him. 

Poor homeless, friendless child. It Avas the first 
kind, sympathetic words ever addressed to him, and 
his pure spirit Avent out in gratitude to the man Avho 
uttered them. 

After a brief pause, and Avith much hesitation, 
Jimmie replied, “I don’t knoAV, sir; I feel badly here, 
all the time,” placing his hand on his stomach , ‘‘that is, 
I feel sick there Avhen we have little to eat, and that is 
very often.” 

Foxey Grube arose from his chair Avith flushed face 
and flashing eyes ; a white circle came around his 
mouth, his nose Avas pinched, and his lips Avere drawn 
tightly and parted displaying tAVO roAvs of glittering 
white teeth. 

Without further noticing the frightened child Avho 
coAvered doAvn in his chair casting furtive glances oA^er 
his shoulder, Foxey Grube began to Avalk the floor, and 
in a voice husky and tremulous Avith passion, mut- 


6o 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 


tered horrible imprecations and shook his clinched 
hand furiously at some imaginary object. Finally, in 
the very midst of his pantomime and warlike demon- 
strations, a slight noise at the door attracted his atten- 
tion, and, wheeling suddenly around, he saw Jimmie 
standing there with hand on the knob, trembling and 
looking back over his shoulder with a wild, startled 
look in his eyes. 

Instantly Grube’s demeanor changed — the fierce 
expression vanished from his face and a smile pecu- 
liarly winning came in its place. 

“ I must go now,” said the boy tremulously, ‘‘ or I 
will get nothing to eat to-day, cau — cause Uncle said 
if I didn’t hurry back I — I shouldn’t have any; so I 
must go now; I’ve stayed too long already, I’m 
afraid.” The words came in broken, disjointed sen- 
tences, accompanied with sighs and looks that would 
have touched an iron heart and brought a flush of 
indignation to the face of a marble statue. Foxey 
Grube turned his back to the trembling child, ground 
his teeth together in rage, muttered a terrible oath — 
a curse deep and heartfelt, and then he turned around 
with face quite pleasant and natural, and said kindly, 
very, kindly: “Wait a few minutes, I want to 
write a note to your uncle about the message you 
brought me. I’ll tell him it was my fault you did not 
return sooner and he will excuse you. Sit down by 
the Are, dear.” 

Dear Was it the voice of Foxey Grube, or of 
the spirit of the child’s angel mother ? That sweet 
word was sweetly spoken, and if by Foxey Grube, an 
angel had put it into his mouth and inspired its articu- 
lation. 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 


6i 

Reassured by the kind voice he had heard, and the 
gentle demeanor of Foxey Grube, Jimmie resumed his 
seat before the fire and soon again became interested 
in watching the burning coal in the grate and the 
curling blaze as it roared up the chimney. 

As the boy returned to his seat, Grube pulled the 
bell cord vigorously and stood in a listening attitude 
until he heard footsteps in the hall, when he lighted 
a fresh cigar, leaned against the mantel and puffed out 
the pearly fragrant clouds of smoke, until above his 
head graceful wreaths swung and floated in fantastic 
circles. In that flash of time, an instant only, the 
pearly clouds became as vapor, in the midst of which 
floated an angel, clasping in her arms the form of a 
boy clad in rags, whose sad white face rested on her 
bosom. A moment only and it had vanished — even 
the smoke had disappeared, and as Grube glanced 
down, he saw Jimmie leaning back in his chair with 
clasped hands and face upturned and radiant. 

A knock at the door broke the spell. A loud, rude 
knock, and then, in compliance with Grube’s command 
to enter, the door slowly opened, a little way at first, a 
great black face peeped cautiously in, and tTVo large 
black eyes glanced questioningly toward him. 

“ Come in, Lizzie,” said Grube, kindly, and the door 
swung open and closed noiselessly, and a ponderous 
negro woman stood before him. 

‘‘Lizzie, have you served all the breakfast?” 
inquired Grube, to which inquiry the wench made no 
reply, but stood stupidly before him, gazing into his 
face with blank amazement portrayed on every linea- 
ment of her features. His tone of voice, his altered 
expression, his gentle manner, all in such vivid con- 


62 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME, 


trast with those of the same man but an hour before, 
had deprived her of the power of utterance or of 
motion, and she stood before him spellbound with 
astonishment. 

“Lizzie, have you served all the breakfast?’’ he 
repeated, in the same gentle tone, and the wench 
pinched her cheek, Avinked her great black eyes as 
though she had just been aroused from dead slumber, 
and faltered forth the reply : 

“ No, sah.” 

“ Is Avhat you have good and hot, and is there plenty 
for a very hungry person ? ” 

“ Bless 3"our soul, yes, sah ; plenty for two hungry 
pussons, sah.” 

“Well, then, Lizzie, help me lift the aquarium otf 
the table — steady — so! ” he said, as it was done. “ Now 
let us put the table over in front of the fire,” and that 
Av as done. “Noav, Lizzie,” continued Grube, “seiA^e 
the breakfast there on the table, and, remember, bring 
plenty.” 

“ Yes, sah,” and the woman hurried aAvay. Soon 
she returned, accompanied by another servant, both 
loaded to their utmost capacity Avith crockery, table 
linen, silverware, and food so nicely cooked, so neatly 
served, that, in anticipation of it, a hungry stomach 
could not but laugh. 

As the serA^ants entered, Jimmie looked inquiringly 
at Grube, Avho reclined in his great easy chair, and 
Avith eyes half closed, puffed his cigar placidly. As 
he felt the boy’s glance, he raised the newspaper Avhich 
he held in his hand, so as to obscure his face, and 
seemed to be perusing it Avith deep interest. 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 


63 


The table was soon arranged, and very handsomely 
too, for choice china and silverware loaded with tempt- 
ing food are things very pleasing to the eye. When 
all was in order, and the servants had left the room, 
in obedience to a gesture from Grube, he laid down his 
newspaper, arose from his chair, leisurely, and, standing 
before the fire, looked down on Jimmie’s face, and 
asked, very kindly, “Have you been to breakfast, 
dear 

“Dear!” In the same musical tone as before, but 
this time it was plainly enough the voice of Foxey 
Grube. Hot the cold harsh voice of his natural self, 
with its precise measure, intonation and peculiar accent, 
but a new, rich, sweet-toned musical voice, for the 
deep, turbid pool of selfishness in his heart had sud- 
denly gone dry, and the sweet spirit of sympathy had 
put a new song in his mouth. 

Jimmie looked up into Grube’s kind face, timidly, 
yet with eyes beaming with an expression of gratitude 
more eloquent than words, and answered, “Ho, sir, 
I — I haven’t had any breakfast, that — that is to-day. 
We don’t have any breakfast at all any how, for it is 
all breakfast and dinner and supper in one, and some- 
times we don’t even have that.” 

Jimmie was gazing steadily into the fire, and did 
not see the face above him, else he might have been 
frightened, for it was hideous at that moment, but 
when he did glance up a moment later, the boy saw only 
a very pleasant face. 

Well, Jimmie,” said Grube, after a brief silence, 
“as you haven’t had breakfast, and as that hungry 
man won’t come, I presume, I think you had better 
take his place at the table there, for you must be 


64 


FOXEY GRUBE AT HOME. 


hungry after your long walk through the deep snow. 
Come, sit down here.” Placing a chair at the table, 
Grube took Jimmie by the hand, seated him on the 
side next to the fire, and without further ceremony 
began piling his plate with food. There was a large 
tenderloin steak nicely done and smothered in butter, 
a large omelet browned to a dead bronze color, hot 
French rolls light and flakey, shoofly potatoes just 
right, cream toast — could not have better — and deli- 
cious golden coffee. 

As a large piece of steak was placed on his plate, 
Jimmie siezed it with both hands and began devouring 
it ravenously while all human expression vanished 
from his eyes. He clawed and tore the meat, and even 
growled like a wild beast devouring its prey. Knife 
and fork were utterly ignored, and when the meat was 
gone, the boy stood up and clawed into the dishes 
right and left, with both hands, swallowing the food 
without chewing, and scattering fragments of it over 
the floor and tablecloth. 

Foxey Grube was overwhelmed with astonishment. 
The fierce voraciousness of the starving child was 
hideous in the extreme ; so shocking and disgusting to 
the last degree, that he recoiled from the contemplation 
of such abject misery, and left the child to claw the 
food and gorge himself like a famished beast, merely 
saying as he settled down in his easy chair, ‘^Help 
yourself, Jimmie, it is all yours and more if you Avant.” 
Then he fell to muttering bitter Avords, beating the 
arms of his chair Avith his clenched hands, and shaking 
his fists at an imaginary antagonist. 


CHAPTER YI. 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 

Leo Cassell was needy and shabby, yet he managed 
to appear moderately genteel by dint of skillful 
maneuvering in the arrangement of his toilet and by 
other pardonable deceptions. 

In order to impress his hearers with the fact of his 
entire solvency and business knowledge and skill, ho 
would frequently indulge in casual remarks in refer- 
ence to his excellent business prospects, and hint 
vaguely of large transactions in various commodities 
in which he was supposed to be financially interested, 
lie talked glibly of stocks and bonds, and the fluctua- 
tions in values of grain, cotton, real estate, railway 
shares and gold, and hinted mysteriously of certain 
combinations of capitalists to produce corners in cer- 
tain commodities, and then, taking his cigar from his 
mouth and blowing smoke through his nostrils, he 
would strangle, sneeze, and wipe the tears from his 
eyes on a large white silk handkerchief, highly per- 
fumed with cheap cologne, and add, ‘^and if I don’t 
profit by the general demoralization that will follow it 
will not be my fault.” 

Yes, he was shabby and needy, sad to relate, not- 
withstanding his efforts to impress others, and even 
himself, with the belief that somewhere, in some bank 
of deposit, was a large sum of money subject to his 
sight draft. A never-failing source of gratification to 
him was the homage rendered by his equally needy 

65 


66 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 


acquaintances, who did not possess the tact to enable 
them to disguise the true condition of their finances 
under rose-tinted shadows of fiction, and he walked 
the earth with proud step and stately tread, sur- 
rounded by a halo of harmless fictions, pleasant illu- 
sions and bright anticipations. It is a matter of grave 
doubt whether he ever reflected seriously, for that was 
by no means to him a pleasant occupation. It would 
doubtless have been profitable, inasmuch as there were 
latent qualities of intellect and physical force within 
him which might have been utilized thereby, and 
astonishing actual, instead of imaginary, results 
attained. But, as before remarked, it was not pleas- 
ant to reflect soberly and act consistently, and so he 
floated along on the high tide of his own imaginings, 
though buffeted by misfortune, scourged by disap- 
pointment, and sorely pinched by want. Had he 
devoted as much tact and energy in molding realities 
to his use and benefit as in striving to disguise his pov- 
erty, he would doubtless have been the fortunate pos- 
sessor of a competency with all the adjuncts which the 
word implies. Instead of being compelled to sponge his 
clothes almost daily to tone down the gloss of their 
worn surface, and to ink the seams and binding of his 
coat to disguise the effects of long wear and vigorous 
scouring and brushing ; instead of being compelled to 
blacken freely the cracks in his shoes to hide the open- 
ings betrayed by white socks or patches of bare feet ; 
instead of being compelled to change his boarding 
place at the close of every week, and to skulk around 
corners and through unfrequented by-ways in order to 
avoid importunate creditors; instead of being com- 
pelled to attend free luncheon at out-of-the-way beer 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 


67 

saloons, or make a v^ery thin soup answer to the 
demands of an empty stomach for a whole day, simply 
because he had forgotten to get tliat thousand-dollar 
bill changed before bank closed, leaving him with but 
a lonely five-cent piece, and that borrowed from a 
needy friend; instead of struggling and suffering 
through all this, he might have worn a hundred-dollar 
suit of clothes, a twenty-dollar pair of boots, and been 
honored as the lord and master of a Michigan Avenue 
mansion, and might have been well kept and enjoyed 
all the comforts and luxuries of life, had he but bravely 
grasped realities and banished dreams. But why mor- 
alize ? He floated on in the same surging tide, meet- 
ing disaster with a calm indifference amounting almost 
to heroism, and he chattered, bustled and talked mil- 
lions, even while he lived on stray pennies. People 
attributed his shabbiness to eccentricity and habits of 
rigid economy, and his failure to pay his debts to a 
miserly disposition to retain in his possession for pur- 
poses of speculation the money he justly owed. Ah 
me, how far astray everybod}^ was in reference to his 
peculiarities! Hobody ever accused him of downright 
dishonesty, for truly the fellow was brimful of good 
intentions and never purposely wronged anybody ; but 
his peculiarities led him unwillingly astray, and he was 
ever the victim of untoward circumstances. Well does 
the author remember the ludicrous peculiarities of Leo 
Cassell, and if in delineating them he becomes in any 
degree tedious through very minuteness, the reader 
must pardon the digression from the thread of the nar- 
rative and cast ‘‘the mantle of charity ” over the seem- 
ing inconsistency when the author explains that he 
loves to dwell upon the incidents of the long ago 


68 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 


and toy even with the faults and foibles of his dear 
friend. 

Although appearances were very much against him, 
Leo Cassell was ‘‘ the soul of honor.” Even his ene- 
mies (and what positive character has not enemies? for 
show me a man without them and I will show you a 
man without force of character) — even his enemies gave 
him the credit of being industrious and enterprising, 
and of possessing an inordinate degree of energy. As 
regards the latter, he seemed always to have some 
pressing business engagement, and during business 
hours could scarcely be held a moment in ordinary 
conversation. As he passed along the street he always 
ran, knocking against sluggish people sauntering along 
the pavement, and creating panics in knots of insolent, 
swaggering, sleek, smooth-faced, would-be-fashionable 
loungers on street corners, for Cassell invariably w^ent 
straight through the knots, parting them as a deep-sea 
diver displaces water, demoralizing hats and disarrang- 
ing neck-ties in a most reckless manner. But, the fact is, 
the fellow never had any but imaginary business, and 
his energetic movements were simply the results of his 
efforts to work off superfluous energy. Independent 
of his little harmless fictions in reference to his 
own business transactions — harmless, because he never 
for a moment ever dreamed of turning them to per- 
sonal profit — by gaining any business advantages, by 
creating false impressions in relation to his financial 
expectations or condition; aside from this he was 
extremely conscientious and sensitive in relation to 
truth, plain and unvarnished, particularly in all matters 
in any degree effecting the business interests, private 
character or personal well-being of others. 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 


69 


However, he was not altogether without occupation, 
for absolute idleness was not consistent with his warm, 
nervous temperament. He could not have endured the 
indolent repose so agreeable to phlegmatic tempera- 
ments, and so some kind of employment w^ as absolutely 
essential to his existence. Being honest, it was neces- 
sary that he should be able to realize something from 
the labor of his hands or brain, else he would have 
starved, being in no degree what is vulgarly termed 
“ a beat.” And so, and somehow, he had quietly man- 
aged to w^ork into a little manufacturing business that 
yielded him but a beggarly and extremely uncertain 
income, even when the most prosperous. But there 
were months following months in dreary, monotonous 
and almost hopeless succession, during which he real- 
ized scarcely a penny, and then he starved and grew 
thin, existing almost wholly on his mental force and 
physical vitality. Hobody knew precisely just how he 
drifted into the business, for it was extremely unpleas- 
ant and laborious. He did all the work, was office boy, 
porter, bookkeeper, salesman and proprietor, collectively 
and individually. He did all the work, ground himself 
down under the severest toil during the night, and 
morning and evening hovered around the suburbs of 
the city in energetic but vain endeavors to sell to out- 
of-the-way grocers and small druggists the article of 
his manufacture. 

Ilis workshop and sleeping apartment was situated on 
a dark narrow alley, in an old partially abandoned build- 
ing, from the front windows of which he could look out 
over the river to the dull smoke-begrimed fronts of 
the tall buildings on the opposite wharf. The river 
crowded with shipping, and the wharves with mer- 


76 CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 

chandise of every description and people of every 
nationality, occupation, stature and variety of apparel, 
presented in summer a lively and interesting scene, but 
in winter, when the city’s great commercial artery was 
converted into a trough of solid ice, the scene was one 
of dreary monotony, where silence brooded and the 
veering winds piled up mountains of snow. 

But the view never troubled or interested Cassell in 
the least, for he rarely took time to look. Time was 
precious to him, for, between morbid fancies and pinch- 
ing realities, the scourgings of grinding miserable want, 
and the inspiration and hounding on of ambition with- 
out the faintest shadow of a plan, or an outline of the 
object to be attained, he found no time for the idle 
contemplation of any scene or object, and so he pur- 
sued the dull routine of his nightly toil and “daily walk 
and conversation,” being quite content to let “^the 
world wag ” its own way while he tottered his. 

The floor of his room was covered with coal ashes, 
paper cuttings, stray straws, old sacks, pieces of kind- 
ling wood, old tin cans, and a general assortment of dirt 
and rubbish; and an old cracked and burned-out stove, 
a dilapidated oflice chair, and an old wooden water 
bucket, completed the furniture of the apartment. As 
to his bed, it consisted of a quantity of the material he 
used for manufacturing purposes, which, covered with 
some old gunny sacks, cast-off clothing, and several 
old blankets of doubtful age and cleanliness, was in 
perfect keeping with its surroundings. 

He never paid rent, for the very good reason that he 
did not have the money, and his landlord, who at first 
had been persistent in his demands and receiving noth- 
ing, eventually accepted from time to time, to be 


CONCERNING LEO CA SSELL. 7 I 

applied on account, the few pennies which Cassell 
could obtain, but he wore out too many pens in writing 
receipts therefor, and, as the building gradually fell 
to decay and became tenantless by reason of its unsafe 
condition, he either forgot the lone occupant of the 
upper front room, or, learning to regard him as a kind 
of harmless nuisance, concluded to let him drift along 
rent free. 

Leo Cassell awoke late that cold Kew- Year’s morning, 
awoke with a grunt and shiver, and peeping cautiously 
out from under the ragged border of his covering, 
toward the frosty windows veiled by cob-webs and 
begrimed by dirt, and then at the cold stove, the 
empty coal bucket, and the pail of water frozen solid 
to the bottom. These were by no means pleasant 
objects to look at, nor was the act of rising from that 
bed into the freezing atmosphere in any degree agreea- 
ble to anticipate. His cringings, shiverings and hesi- 
tations were numerous and ludicrous, and his disjointed 
mutterings about the empty coal bucket, the stinging 
cold weather and his thin clothing would have excited 
the mirth and commiseration of any listener, however 
disinterested. He would rise partly out of bed, 
shiver, hesitate, and then cower down again with chat- 
tering teeth, blue lips, red nose and watery eyes, duck- 
ing his head under the covering and tucking himself 
snugly in again. This skirmishing with the inevitable 
was continued until Jack Frost became master of the 
situation and drove him forth from his retreat. Every 
time he essayed to rise, so undecided and feeble were 
his movements, that he invariably met with signal 
repulse and retired, nipped, pinched and stung, every 
time the more thoroughly vanquished. 


72 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 


Finally lie was literally driven forth, there being 
under the bed clothes but a trifle more warmth than 
without, and scrambling to his feet he hurried on his 
clothes, seized an empty coal bucket and rushed out of 
the room down stairs and away to a neighboring coal 
yard. A few minutes thereafter he returned puffing 
and panting, carrying a large lump of coal under one 
arm and in the other hand the bucket heaped full of 
small lumps. Depositing all on the floor beside the 
stove, he began vigorously poking at the grate to 
remove the ashes, and a few moments later a fire was 
lighted and soon the old stove became red with heat. 
Then he went to an old box whicli he used as a trunk, 
poked around among the contents until he found a 
razor and shaving cup, heated some water in an oyster 
can and then sat down close by the stove and began to 
sliave. The process was exceedingly tedious and dan- 
gerous, inasmuch as he was compelled to perform the 
operation entirely by the sense of feeling, having no 
looking glass. The razor was horribly dull, and it was 
a process of plucking instead of cutting beard. These 
difficulties, added to an unsteady hand, rendered the 
operation exceedingly painful and tedious, but it was 
accomplished without accident, although his face was 
scarlet, scratched and sore. Then he arose, washed 
his face, neck and hands, wiped them on a very crash 
towel, rubbing vigorously until his flesh glowed under 
the energetic friction, and then he took up his worn 
coat, found a bottle of ink and a pencil brush and 
began inking the binding and seams." Half an hour 
later he was dressed, brushed and smoothed as usual, 
when he venture 1 to appear in ])ublic, and as he stood 
before the stove giving the binding of his coat a part- 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 


73 


ing touch of ink, he was quite good looking. Certainly 
his regular features, dark-blue expressive eyes, large 
and finely shaped head crowned by a wealth of glossy 
golden hair in tiny curls could not be fairly regarded 
as even ordinary, and as Cassell completed the inking 
operation and stood by the stove, hat in hand, thinking 
about I^’ew-Year’s calls, he was moderately handsome. 

“I^ot many places to go,^’ he said, “at least not 
many where I would dare to appear in this suit. 
Let me see. Browns, Dodges, Bells, Hurleys, Evanses, 
Merryfellows and — and that completes the list. Ho, 
Worshams. I have no desire to neglect them even 
if they can't furnish cake and wine.” He put on 
his hat, turned up the collar of his overcoat, buttoned 
it up to his chin, thrust his hands into the pockets and 
hurried away. The frosty outdoor air tingled his 
cheeks, and nipped his nose and ears, and the streets 
seemed to draw currents of air as chimneys do smoke, 
and the snow-drifts impeded his progress, soiled his 
boots, through the openings of which fine snow sifted 
and frost entered and pinched his toes, but he rushed 
along regardless of all — wind, snow and leaky boots, 
for there were warmth, cake, wine and pleasant greet- 
ings in prospect, and a smile played warmly on his 
lips, and would not retire though the frosty air 
endeavored to freeze it into a stereotyped grin. 

Square after square and mile on mile he floundered 
along, until in the West Side suburbs of the city he met 
an acquaintance, also out making Hew-Year’s calls. At 
once they became boon companions, and so remained 
until the Browns, Dodges, Bells, Hurleys and Evanses 
had been duly honored by their greeting — made 
happy by a profusion of gush ” — which the occasion 


74 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 


and a plentiful supply of wine with a fly in it” always 
engenders. However, when Cassell and his needy 
and seedy friend had completed the list of calls, 
originally proposed — their councils became turbulent 
and confused, the friend insisting on calling at certain 
other places, and Cassell strenuously objecting. 

Ah, how vividly the author recahs to mind this ludi- 
crous incident, and as he makes a record of it here for 
the amusement of his readers, he laughs heartily, even 
until his eyes are so blinded by tears that he can 
scarely see the lines. 

However, after much deliberation, quibbling, pro- 
posals and counter proposals, the conference adjourned 
sine die, after agreeing to disagree on the main issues, 
and each humor his own inclinations. And so they 
parted, albeit good-humoredly, after many gushing 
professions of undying friendship and mutual invoca- 
tions of the smiles of the fickle goddess ; after prayers 
had been said by each for the health, happiness, pros- 
perity and long life of the other — while they clung to 
and held up a lamp-post on an out-of-the-way corner, 
as they stood knee-deep in snow, they fell upon each 
other’s necks, sighed, wept and parted. 

Leo Cassell ran. It was his only alternative, for his 
head was heavy and his feet exceedingly light. He 
was cold, also, and rapid locomotion quickened his 
blood and induced warmth ; on he sped, regardless of 
direction, bringing up against fences, lamp-posts, trees, 
and buildings like an animal with the blind staggers, 
and each time trying a new direction, until finally the 
outskirts of the city had been left far behind, and the 
plank road to Brighton stretched out before him far 
to the dim horizon, Crradually he became Leo Cassell 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 75 

again, for the fog which had settled down darkly upon 
his brain was swept away by the piercing cold and vio- 
lent exercise, and he retraced his steps cogitating the 
while on the unwholesomeness of “wine with a fly in 
it/’ However his heart was light and his reasoning 
powers in very fair working order, and so, as he came 
to the corner where the conference had been held, he 
had mapped out his course for the balance of the day, 
and hurried by merely glancing at the footprints beside 
the lamp-post and numerous impressions of a human 
form in the snow in the direction his friend had gone. 

Half an hour later he rang the door bell of a very 
handsome dwelling on a beautiful street in an aristo- 
cratic quarter of the city, and was ushered into a beau- 
tiful parlor by a beautiful woman, pven Mrs. Dolly 
Merryfellow. 

As Cassell entered, Merryfellow came bounding in 
from the sitting-room, caught his friend by the shoul- 
ders, twirled him around, grasped his hand and warmly 
w^elcomed him. Then “the compliments of the sea- 
son,” and mutual kind wishes each for the other passed 
in rapid succession, and then came the rattle of cut 
glass and the flow of wine (minus flies, for Cassell 
would have no more of it), and sparkling Mrs. Merry- 
fellow with charming grace dispensed the hospitalities 
and honored the visitor by the sunlight of her sweet 
presence. A warm friendship existed betvreen these 
two men — Cassell and Merryfellow — a friendship which 
began when they were boys and playmates, and became 
stronger and more enduring as the years w^ent by. 
Cassell had never failed to visit his friend on the first 
day of every year, when there was a general love 
feast and overhauling of the pleasant memories of the 


76 CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 

past. That was the first New-Year’s day since little 
Dolly Minton became the charming Mrs. Merryfellow, 
and as it was especially in order to congratulate the 
happy ‘‘twain, one flesh,” Cassell improved the oppor- 
tunity and performed the pleasant but exceedingly 
delicate task in a manner quite graceful and in words 
well chosen. 

At that moment, in the little cottage across the way, 
two ladies knelt in prayer lifting their hearts in grati- 
tude to God. In the center of the room was a large 
box with the lid partially removed disclosing the con- 
tents — a large turkey, canned fruits, cans of oysters, 
jars of preserves and pickles, nuts and confections, and 
on the floor beside that box was an open letter stained 
and moist with tears. Even as Rudolph Merryfellow, 
thrilling with emotion, received the congratulations of 
his dear friend, the trembling voice of that aged lady 
over the way besought heaven’s choicest blessings on 
those kind unknown friends, who, even in the height of 
prosperity, and in the rose-tinted light of pure fresh 
love, had remembered the indigent widow and orphan 
and had contributed to their comfort, that they might 
also be happy on the first day of the new year. 

Leo Cassell reluctantly endeavored to frame an 
acceptable excuse not to run into dinner, but signally 
failed, and surrendered unconditionally. Merryfellow 
put down his number ten boot with such force and 
determination, and Mrs. Merryfellow smiled so sweetl}^ 
as she seconded her husband’s invitation, that Cassell 
waived his exceedingly transparent objections and con- 
sented to become an honored guest at a bounteous 
repast. His hitherto complaining stomach was more 
than satisfied when they returned to the parlor, and 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 77 

the choice fragrant cigars which Merryfellow had 
especially provided for the occasion were keenly en- 
joyed. And so the hours flitted by until night shadows 
came creeping, phantom like, over the lake and along 
the streets of the great cit}^, and lights began to flash 
from windows, and street-lamps glimmered faintly in 
the gathering gloom. Then hands were warmly 
clasped in parting, adieus were said, and the door of 
Merryfellow’s happy home closed behind Cassell. He 
walked slowly away, slowly! yes, that is the term 
descriptive of his shufiling, shambling gait, and irreso- 
lute movements. He cast wistful sidelong glances over 
his shoulder toward the light which gleamed brightly 
from the windows of the cottage across the Avay, and 
he wanted to go there. Yes, he had half a mind to 
venture, but was painfully uncertain as to the pro- 
priety of so doing. His heart throbbed violently, his 
knees knocked together and a nervous tremor shook 
him, and so, away from the light which bathed loveli- 
ness and purity, he went slowly, very slowly, while the 
little winsome love god tugged away at his heart 
strings in frantic opposition, striving to draw him 
toward the light and into the presence of angelic love- 
liness in human guise, that he might get in range two 
sympathetic hearts, and with his keen polished arrow, 
thrown by an unerring bow, pin them together. 

Cassell paused and leaned against a lamp-post on 
the opposite corner, half a square distant from that 
fascinating light ; leaned and hesitated, shivered and 
blew his breath on his naked hands, scratched his 
head, stamped his feet, and, still gazing toward the 
light, muttered something about “confound a man 
with no nerve.” Finally, between the stinging cold 


78 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 


and his ardent inclinations, lie was driven from his 
untenable position of indecision, and in very despera- 
tion he sprang forward and hurried across the street 
and along the pavement until he came to the door of 
the cottage where he paused, and, with trembling, 
hesitating hand, gave the bell-pull a gentle touch. 
Immediately a bell rang faintly within, and presently 
light footsteps glided along the hall ^toward the door. 
Mercy! how wildly his heart throbbed and pulse 
bounded, and the muscles of his face twitched, and how 
he trembled from head to feet. Had a sudden illness 
seized him, and was his over-burdened stomach in 
rebellion ? Had the wine “ with a fly in it,” and that 
without a fly — absolutely straight — become involved 
in a sanguinary conflict with the hot punch w^hich his 
friend. Merry fellow, had especially prepared for 
him, and absolutely forced him to swallow? Why 
did he shrink back from the door as though about to 
retreat? Strange ! Poor fellow, he was sadly demoral- 
ized. The echo of a pair of dainty feet in number two 
gaiters had quite unmanned him, and he was in a flutter 
of varied emotions when the door softly opened and a 
very handsome girl stood before him with extended 
hand and smiling an eloquent welcome. 

She was a blonde of the clearest and most positive 
type. Laughing blue eyes, shaded by delicately 
arched and penciled brows, looked a joyous greeting 
which made Cassell’s blood tingle to his very Anger 
ends. That she was fair, no honest beholder could 
deny nor remain totally indifferent to her many subtle, 
wdnsome charms. If a form delicately molded and 
chiseled into exquisite perfection by the great sculptor, 
nature, and endowed with a quality of motion as 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 


79 


graceful as the swaying willow ; if a complexion of 
blended pearl and rose tints with bright vermilion on 
lips, full and ripe, above a chin so exquisitely rounded 
that the little love god as he paused to admire, had 
touched it with his finger and left a dimple there — if 
these harmonious combinations of curved lines and 
delicate tints constitute beauty, then Grace Worsham 
was beautiful. 

Eagerly he grasped her proffered hand, stammered, 
blushed, and tried to speak, but his mouth and throat 
were dry, his tongue paralyzed, and his lips joy 
sealed. 

Beyond an informal interchange of incoherent greet- 
ings, no words were spoken until in the quietness of 
the plain sitting-room, and in the presence ot‘ Mrs. Wor- 
sham, they were seated before a cheerful fire. Then 
Cassell’s shackled words broke their bonds, his paralyzed 
tongue accepted joyfully its freedom, and he laughed 
and talked incessantl3^ 

His visit was quite agreeable to the lonely ladies, who 
were glad to listen to his light chattering, and so the 
hours danced along until the great bells of the city 
chimed eight. Then he arose, announced an important 
engagement, put on his overcoat, shook Mrs. Worsham’s 
hand warmly, and passed into the hall, attended by 
Miss Grace. As he stood alone in her presence by the 
hall door, his self-possession vanished, and the timidity 
of a schoolboy in the presence of his first sweetheart, 
came in its place. Evidently he wanted to say some- 
thing confidentially to the little beauty by his side, but 
her very purity of thought and modest demeanor over- 
whelmed him with confusion, and after numerous hesi- 
tations and awkward intervals of silence, he went away 


So 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 


without even an intimation of the character of the 
communication he wished to impart. However, her 
womanly perception fathomed the secret, and brought 
clearly to her understanding the cause of his confusion, 
and with a smile which sent the warm blood rushing 
through his veins with electric force and speed, she 
held his hand a moment, and pressed it gently as adieux 
were said. Ah, woman, woman ! from Eve to our last 
sweetheart your nature has undergone no change. 

The gentle pressure of Grace Worsham’s hand raised 
Leo Cassell from “ the slough of despond” up into the 
very center of the seventh heaven, and as the door 
closed behind him he walked on air, wrapped in delight- 
ful bewilderment. Yes, the gentle pressure of a soft, 
warm hand had set his blood on fire, and his heart and 
pulses dancing. He swooped along like an mronaut in 
his air-ship, utterly blind to surrounding objects, by 
glimmering street lamps and squares of stately man- 
sions, over the bridge which spanned the ice-locked 
river, by markets and tall business houses, dark and 
silent, until — ah, bump! slip! thud! and two human 
forms plunge headlong into the snow. It was fortunate 
that the earth was well cushioned just there, else broken 
bones or dislocated limbs might have resulted from that 
violent collision. Howbeit, the only damages resulting 
were huge rents in both knees of Cassell’s bestand only 
pants, and the slight soiling of the other person’s coat. 
The collision occurred at a street corner where there 
was no light, and tall buildings shrouded the pavement 
in pitchy darkness. And so, as Cassell, going at a full 
run, turned the corner of the street sharply, he came in 
violent contact with the other part}' approaching from 
the opposite direction. As that individual scrambled 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 


8l 


to his feet, he indulged in some very emphatic com- 
ments on Cassell’s carelessness and wanton disregard 
of his (the complainant’s) right of way. He protested 
strenuously against such monopoly of the public thor- 
oughfare, and insisted that there was ample space for 
a dozen persons to pass without the slightest danger of 
collision, and freely expressed his opinion in reference 
to Cassell’s mental endowments — in conclusion con- 
signed Cassell to the realm of eternal night, to float in 
the burning lake until summoned to judgment by the 
awful notes of Gabriel’s trumpet. Then he advanced, 
shaking his fist threateningly at Cassell, who, with back 
against the brick wall of the building, placed himself 
in an attitude of defense, and defied the belligerent 
stranger to do his worst. 

Cassell’s blood was up quite to the boiling point, and 
he was crazed by anger, else he would have recognized 
the voice of Foxey Grube. That individual paused as 
Cassell’s defiant challenge to combat rang out clear as 
bugle notes sounding a charge — paused, and his demean- 
or instantly changed as he recognized the voice of his 
boyhood friend. True, vice had opened a chasm be- 
tween them wide and deep, for Grube had settled down 
into the quagmire of sin, while Cassell, though ground 
down by poverty, still remained on the heights, breath- 
ing the pure atmosphere and clinging tenaciously to 
honor. Howbeit, for the moment the chasm was 
bridged, and instead of blows and blood, there was a 
warm clasping of hands as Edward Grube discovered 
himself to his boyhood school-fellow and friend. 

Standing in darkness and silence, hand in hand, those 
two men lived a moment in the joyous sunny past, and 


82 


CONCERNING LEO CASSELL. 


then, Tvith a simple good-bye, uttered in tremulous 
accents, they parted. 

Leo Cassell did not see the form standing in the 
darkness of a deep doorway across the street. He did 
not know that the same form had followed him from 
the very door where he had parted with Grace Wor- 
sham. He had not the slightest suspicion of being 
shadowed, as with a sad heart he slowly pursued his 
lonely way toward his lonely habitation. Nevertheless, 
that form continued to follow stealthily, avoiding the 
glaring light of street lamps and keeping in the shad- 
ows of the buildings, until Cassell turned into the dark 
hallway leading to his room. Then that form paused 
under the light of a street lamp, and, though he wore a 
soft felt hat, with its brim slouched down, partially 
shading his face, and a wide fur muffler around his 
neck, extending above his ears, a mere casual acquaint- 
ance passing at that moment could not have failed 
to have recognized the form as that of Charles Barry. 


CHAPTER yil. 


LITTLE JIM’s PROPHETIC DREAM. 

Ralph Skinner was seated in his strong arm chair, 
close by that heat-proof stove, in which a feeble coal 
fire sputtered discontentedly, threatening momentarily 
to strike for better nursing and more food. That fire 
complained in plaintive tones of the large lumps which 
had been crowded into its stomach, and positively 
declared its inability to digest them. It insisted on 
having its food properly served, that it might be easily 
consumed, and on having its throat cleared, that it 
might be able to breathe freely, else it would perform 
no service. ‘‘Depend on it,” quoth the stove, “I will 
no longer endure such ill-treatment.” 

To those very reasonable and just demands, Ralph 
Skinner was totally indifferent. He had served the 
fuel in large masses purposely, from motives of econ- 
omy. That was always the master rudder which 
guided and controlled his acts, and so his deter- 
mination to compel that stove, yes or no, to digest its 
stomach load, just as he had served it, slate, sulphur 
lumps and all, was unalterable ; and it only remained 
for that mutinous stove tp sputter and complain, con- 
gratulating itself upon the fact that its miserly lord 
and master would receive no benefit whatever from its 
services. 

A miserable spindling tallow dip crowded down 
into the neck of a dirty soda bottle also sputtered 
coraplainingly from its place on the old greasy table, 
83 


84 LITTLE JIM'S PROPHETIC DREAM, 

casting a faint firefly light but a few inches from its 
burning wick on which had gathered numerous signs 
of letters in the postoffice for its owner. 

Except close around the table, which had been drawn 
out in front of the stove, the room was in total dark- 
ness, and as old Ealph Skinner leaned forward toward 
the sickly sputtering light, holding up a sheet of legal 
cap writing paper, and for the twentieth time perused 
the writing scrawled on its polished surface, in the 
wanly light of the tallow dip, the deep lines, curves 
and sharp angular depressions on the leather-like 
surface of his face, over which alternate light and 
shadow flitted as he changed position, was an object 
ghastly and repulsive. 

Little Jim had sought release from sorrow, suffering 
and toil, and was away in beautiful dreamland, uncon- 
scious of the squalid misery which clung to his young 
life, vampire-like, slowly sapping the fountain of his 
strength and surely crushing his spirit. As the 
shadows of night began to assemble, Hitting into deep 
doorways, walled courts, narrow alleys and the angles 
of tall buildings, the weary child had crept under the 
ragged quilts on the bed, and, as he lay there, thinking 
of Foxey Grube and the good breakfast which that 
person had kindly given him, the wind moaned 
sadly around the corners and gables of the attic and 
seemed to sob like a weeping woman, at the window 
close by his bed. As he listened, a delightful languor 
gradually came upon him — his eyes closed slowly, and 
strains of soft sweet distant music echoed in his ears. 
Suddenly a scene of bewildering beauty burst upon 
his vision and he almost ceased to breathe. 


LITTLE JIM’S PROPHETIC DREAM. 


85 


He was in a strange and beautiful land where tall 
mountains of pure crystal towered heavenward, and 
disappeared in clouds of purple and gold. There were 
beautiful valleys nestling at the feet of the mountains, 
where beautiful flowers bloomed, lifting their glad 
faces upward and Avaving their green leaves in the 
golden light ; kissed by wooing breezes they blushed 
and quivered, and the loving zephyrs sported among 
them and away, laden with their delicious perfume. 
Fountains played in the shimmering light, and clear, 
deep streams went murmuring by, and even the earth 
seemed to rejoice and shout hosannas. 

And just beyond was a great forest of giant trees, 
to whose swaying branches clung masses of flowering 
vines in beautiful wreaths, forming natural arbors, in 
whose deep shade flitted, to and fro, forms of transcend- 
ent loveliness. He heard sounds of rejoicing, shouts 
of triumph and peals of music, and myriads of birds 
of gorgeous plumage floated aloft, singing with human 
voices. 

He stood upon a shore, and the surf thundered at his 
feet, drenching him with spray, and over the water 
hung a dark impenetrable mist, which stood like a dark 
wall before his vision. He could hear the suck and 
thud of angry waves, and their regular dash on shore. 
He could hear the dripping of paddles in water, and 
the grating of boat-keels on a beach, and out of the 
mist came shadowy human forms, whose heads were 
encircled by crowns of dazzling light. 

Suddenly he felt a mysterious presence — the embrace 
of loving arms, and then he lay on a soft, white bosom, 
and the face of his angel mother smiled doAvn upon 
him. 


86 LITTLE JIM'S J^ROPIIETIC DREAM. 

“ Darling,” she said, “ My darling.^ my sweet boy — 
poor, suffering, dear one, you have come to mamma at 
last, pretty one, but you can not remain. Life clings 
to you still, and you must pass the gates of death and 
float over the dark river ere you can rest here in my 
arms forever. Patience, my darling, patience. A few 
more feeble steps, a feAV more weary hours, a few more 
grains of sand dropping from the glass of time; a 
few more sighs and tears, temptations and cruel 
wrongs, and then, my darling, you will be mine — all 
mine, forever.” 

Crash! She was gone. The beautiful scene vanished 
like vapor before a tornado, and the startled, terror- 
stricken child screamed, clutched the bed-clothes and 
trembled as the sound of a harsh, horrible, yet familiar 
voice greeted his ears. 

He sat up, and there before him was a form and face 
at which he could never look and not shudder. Tears 
flowed down his face, as reality, with cruel hand, swept 
away the joy of his sweet dream and led him back to 
the horrors of life. 

What is the matter with you? idiot 1 ” growled old 
Skinner, glaring fiercely toward the trembling child. 

What are you screeching about? Lie down will you, 
and don’t let me hear from you again to-night, or I’ll 
warm your back with a strap. I knocked down the 
poker, that was all; but you don’t need to screech 
about it and alarm the whole neighborhood.” Then 
old Skinner fell to mumbling and grunting like a hog 
disturbed in its rest. 

‘‘Suddenly he paused and listened. What did he 
hear? His quick ears had caught a sound, and he sat 
still, clasping the arms of his chair with a vice-like grip 


LITTLE JIM'S PROriLETIC DREAM. 87 

of his bony hands, gazing through the darkness toward 
the door. 

Thump! Thump! Thump! Was it footsteps on the 
lower stairs? Tramp ! tramp ! up ! up ! nearer and 
nearer; a brief interval of death-like stillness, and then 
there came a loud rap on the door. 

Come in,” entreated Skinner in a weak, quivering 
voice, while his teeth knocked together and he trembled 
as though a sudden ague had seized him. Still clutch- 
ing the arms of his chair, he partly arose to his feet, 
and again endeavored to speak, but his voice was for 
the moment gone, and he crouched there, ducking up 
and down like one demented. 

Ah, conscience, what an avenger thou art! How thou 
canst scourge the evil doer with the scorpion lash of ap- 
prehension. What perturbation overwhelms the guilty 
soul at the slightest sound ^vhen no danger threatens ! 

There tvas a brief interval of profound silence, dur- 
ing which old Skinner ducked up and down in his chair, 
and the muscles of his face twitched and his shriveled 
features contorted frightfully. His long white hair 
dropped down from his forehead over his eyes, and 
his old brass-framed spectacles slipped from his nose 
and fell to the floor, breaking into many pieces. 

Ao:ain that knock at the door, but louder than at 
first, sounded through the room, rattled along the roof 
timbers and angles of the great attic beyond, and came 
back in wild echoes as though ten thousand fiends had 
shrieked in chorus, Raljyli Skinner! 

The police olficer who stood under the light of a 
street lamp a square distant, heard the sound, and 
sprang his alarm rattle, and as his companion ap- 
proached both paused and listened. 


88 LITTLE JIM'S PROPHETIC DREAM. 

“Come in!” shrieked Skinner, in a shrill, unsteady 
treble voice. The police officers heard that also, 
smiled and parted, for well they knew old Skinner’s 
screech. 

In compliance with the invitation, Foxey Grube 
strode in, slammed the door behind him two or three 
times, until the worn-out catch fastened, and then he 
approached the cowering form of old Skinner and said, 
“ Well, I am here as you requested.” 

“So I observe,” growled Skinner, “but I fail to 
recognize the necessity for so much noise, or that you 
needed to break down the door in order to get in — it 
wasn’t locked.” 

“ Why didn’t you answer then,” retorted Grube. 

“ I did answer,” snapped Skinner. 

“ You must have very weak lungs then, for 1 didn’t 
hear you.” 

“ That settles it,” was Skinner’s curt reply. “ Yes,” 
he added, insolently, “ I want you, else I wouldn’t have 
sent word to that effect.” 

“ Haven’t you been drinking vinegar this evening, 
old man?” inquired Grube, as a white circle crept 
around his mouth. 

The quick eyes of the other caught the fiendish 
expression on Grube’s face, and he quailed like a dog 
before the angry glance of a determined man. Instantly 
old Skinner’s demeanor changed, and his haughty 
defiance became sickening, fawning, disgusting syco- 
phancy. 

“ Ile-he-he ! giggled the cringing mortal. Ha-ha- 
ha ! that is a good joke. Ho, my good fellow, no vine- 
gar for Skinner, if you please. But tell me, haven’t 
you been eating mustard or capsicum? ” 


LITTLE JIATS PROPHETIC DREAM. 89 

“ Hit him again,” responded Grube, as the white 
circle around his mouth disappeared, and a faint smile 
lighted up his face. 

‘‘A truce,” whined Skinner with a horrible leer, 
“ and now, my dear boy, let me inquire how have you 
spent the day ? Enjoyed yourself hugely with the — 
he-he-he ! you know who, the ha-ha-ha ! the sweet 
pretty girls. Had plenty of wine and cake ? ” Here 
his voice fell to a horrible whisper, a fiendish hiss, and 
waving his bony right hand before him in deprecating 
gesture, accompanied by sundry nods and winks, he 
added, ‘‘and something stronger, something hotter, 
something that makes the blood gush through the 
veins like liquid fire, quickens thought and breeds pur- 
poses — ah — ? ” 

“ But always evil purposes,” responded Grube, break- 
ing in upon Skinner’s discourse. “ Enough of that,” he 
added, waving his hand in dismissal, “ quite enough, I 
know what you mean, it is that which will destroy 
both body and soul and even convert an angel into a 
very devil. Liquor, whiskey, brandy ! Ko sir, I 
haven’t imbibed to-day.” 

“ But this is Hew-Y ear’s day,” fawned Skinner. 

“ I presume I ought to know that, as I have enjoyed 
the occasion in my own quiet way,” was the grim 
answer. “ But that has no bearing on the matter 
which brought me here, what do you want of me ?” 

“ I’m coming to that presently,” replied Skinner, “a 
book usually has a dedication and a preface, and so 
should all important business matters. Such prepara- 
tory exercises I have arranged for this occasion.” 
Beaching down to the floor by the side of his chair, he 
lifted up a one-gallon demijohn and a broken wine 


90 


LITTLE JIM'S PROPHETIC DREAM. 


glass, adding as be removed the cork, filled the glass 
and handed it to Grube, “it is the best I could find, 
pure old brandy.” 

Grube smiled as he took the glass from Skinner’s 
hand, smiled all over his face, and even his head, by its 
peculiar poise, seemed also to smile. 

“ Not an unpleasant preface, quite an appropriate 
dedication, Skinner,” he said. “It is always wise to 
fortify the stomach when the brain is at war with cir- 
cumstances, endeavoring to influence acts so as to 
mold results to one’s liking. We may be making 
history for ought we know, at least history of individ- 
ual lives, and as neither of us are in any degree saintly, 
our councils can not result in good to our fellow-man. 
The reasonable presumption therefore is, that some 
sort of questionable wire-pulling is contemplated, 
which means — well never mind what.” Taking out 
his pocket-book he shook it significantly at Skinner, 
nodded several times, implying, “you understand all 
about it, and so do I,” returned it to his pocket, adding 
in a bantering tone, “something of that sort it means, 
b}^ the simple twist of the wrist you know.” Continu- 
ing to nod and wag his head, he raised the glass, held 
it a moment before the thin tallow dip, closed one eye, 
and with the other squinted through the amber colored 
liquid and said, while in the act of placing it to his lips, 
“ all circumstances and surroundings duly considered 
this is a very appropriate dedication, for evil spirits 
and evil deeds ever go hand in hand.” Then he 
seemed to pour the liquor down his throat, and really 
Skinner so believed, for so delighted was he by the 
apparent success of his scheme, that he turned his head 
away at that moment, and did not see Grube’s quick 


LITTLE JIM'S PROPHETIC DREAM. 9 1 

movement as he took tlie glass from his lips, nor did he 
hear the gentle splash of something on the floor. How- 
ever, Grube smacked his lips as he put the glass on the 
table and twirled it around, saying, “ that is good 
brandy, Skinner, excellent quality, smooth as oil, a pure 
article, imported from sunny France, doubtless.” 

While Grube was speaking, Skinner leaned over 
sidewise in his chair and felt around on the floor, 
found another wine-glass, the exact counterpart of the 
first, poured into it from the demijohn perhaps two 
teaspoon fuls of brandy, and as Grube concluded, he 
nodded approvingly, while a grim smile played among 
the wrinkles of his face. His glance was downward 
and aside, for he could not meet the eyes of his visitor, 
and so he drank in silence. 

Yes, it is choice old brandy, and as you say, smooth 
as oil,” responded Skinner, as he put his empty glass on 
the table, and shuddered perceptibly, for he did not 
like the vile stuff. Hot only was it disagreeable to his 
taste, but it wounded his conscience, and in retaliation 
it smote him mercilessly for the useless waste. And 
yet there was a gleam of satisfaction in his e3^es as he 
narrowly watched the movements of his visitor. 
Strange as it may appear, there were no dregs in the 
bottom of Skinner s glass, something remarkable, as 
both glasses had been filled from the same demijohn. 
Had ashes accidentally fallen into Grubds glass. 

That person grew wonderfully talkative and good- 
humored, discussed every imaginable subject from 
beans to bonds, and his fund of information seemed 
simply inexhaustible, as did his tongue. He rattled 
along glibly, asking questions and answering them 
himself in the same breath, was wonderfully polite. 


92 


LITTLE JIJSrs PROPHETIC DREAM. 


suave and Frencliy. He discoursed to imaginary 
generals, colonels, senators, lawyers and doctors on 
the arts of war, law making, law manipulation and 
physics in infinite variety and inextricable confusion of 
subjects and ideas. 

Meanwhile Skinner seemed deeply interested in the 
writing on the sheet of legal cap paper on the table, 
and was evidently deaf to Grubes’ nonsensical twaddle. 
Finally he began to write on another sheet of paper, 
while Grube continued to dance around the room, 
quote poetry, make speeches and sing. He hovered 
over Skinner, as he wrote, danced around his chair and 
looked over his shoulder, and once, when the other 
looked up, he caught an expression of peculiar intelli- 
gence in his eyes, considering that he was almost blind 
drunk. So regarding him, Skinner gave the matter no 
further thought, and so an hour passed, when he laid 
down his pen, turned his chair around from the table 
and said : 

“How, Mr. Grube, suppose we talk business a few 
minutes. We have enjoyed ourselves exceedingly, 
have cast aside the cares and vexations of life for a 
time, and enjoyed the society of our friends. We have 
drained the blushing goblet and soared away on the 
wings of fancy, which for the tim:) was very pleasant 
indeed. But all transitory things are at best unsatis- 
factory — even life — but as we must live until we die, 
we must be resigned to whatever overtakes us on the 
journey — prosperit}^ and adversity alike. Speaking of 
changes, I presume it will be well enough now to change 
the order of the evening, and if agreeable to you. Sir 
Knight, we’ll to business.” 


LITTLE JIM'S PROPHETIC DREAM. 


93 


Grube, who, when Skinner began, was in the midst 
of Hamlet’s soliloquy, and had just uttered the words, 
“ but that the dread of something after death ” — when 
Skinner ended, arose to his feet, bowed, and replied, 
“ May it please your Majesty, I have the honor to be 
your most humble and obedient servant, and respect- 
fully await your pleasure.” Then he bowed very low 
again, gave a military salute and assumed the position 
of a soldier in the ranks at the command — ^^FrontP 
He appeared to be entirely serious, and his grave 
expression and manner brought a smile even to the 
face of old Kalph Skinner. 

“It is well, Sir Knight,” responded Skinner, humor- 
ing the other’s whim, “ but let us come down to facts 
now, and talk of the matter about which I wished to 
see you particularly. You remember I sent for you 
to-day.” 

“Yes,” replied Grube, dreamily, seeming partially to 
realize the situation. 

“Well,” continued Skinner, “ this being New-Year’s 
night, I concluded to have a little jollification, and also 
to combine business with pleasure, so that the time 
would not be entirely lost. I have some papers here 
which I wish you to sign as witness. The notary 
will be here presently, and he -he- he— just for a 
joke, I will introduce you by some other name than 
you own. Brown, Jones or Smith. Yes, that is it — 
Smith, I’ll say Mr. Notary — this is Mr. Smith. Mr. 
Smith — Mr. Notary, and wont that be a joke on the 
old fellow?” 

“Capital,” roared Grube, staggering to his feet, 
“ capital, I say. A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a 


94 


LITTLE JIM'S PROPHETIC BREAM. 


donkey ! ’specially one like that thick-headed old — 
what did you call him ? ” 

Notary,” responded Skinner, with a vicious smile.™ 

‘^Noddary ! Yes, that’s it,” echoed Grube in a husky 
voice, leaning over the table. Noddary! that mule- 
pated, long-eared mongrel that won’t know Foxey 
Grube from Smith. Ha -ha -ha! Capital, I say,” 
and he dropped into his chair, limp and apparently 
thoroughly used up. 

Kalph Skinner arose, walked to the window and 
looked down on the pavement. The night was very 
dark, and the wind came from the lake in furious gusts, 
driving dark, low banks of storm clouds over the city. 
The street was entirely deserted, for even the police 
officers had crawled into friendly doorways for shelter 
from the drifting snow. 

‘‘ It is singular that he does not come,” muttered 
Skinner. ‘‘Singular indeed, and yet I am not certain 
that that fool yonder is quite peppered enough, but I 
think he’ll do, at least I’ll take the chances.. The 
plan is an excellent one at least and I don’t see how it 
can possibly fail. The circumstances are all in my 
favor, and no court in Christendom will decide against 
the genuineness of that signature. It is perfect in 
every detail, an exact fao simile.^ which, after all, is the 
real all important. Still I must have a witness and a 
notary’s seal affixed. It is fortunate that Grube wit- 
nessed the deed to the property which I bought of 
Barry when he was here the last time, and that O’Con- 
ner was the notary employed, neither will remember 
anything about the amount or location of the property 
conveyed to me, and so all I have to do is muddle their 
brains, get them to sign and then send them home to 
sleep off their Dovers 'powders^ ha-ha-ha !” 


LITTLE JIM’S PROPHETIC DREAM. 


95 


Grube’s head gradually leaned forward until his chin 
rested on his breast, and while old Skinner stood by 
the window whispering his thoughts to the night and 
storm, he appeared to be sleeping. Presently, however, 
he straightened up and said in a thick, husky voice, 
“ Trot ’em out ! Why don’t you trot ’em out ?” 

“ What ?” inquired Skinner, turning around from the 
window. 

“ Why the papers to be sure, what else ? Didn’t 
you say something about signing some papers?” 
answered Grube, swaying back and forth in his chair 
and clinging to the table for support as otherwise 
evidently he would have fallen to the floor. 

“ Oh, yes, certainly,” replied Skinner, ‘‘ certainly, but 
wait my dear fellow until the notary comes. He will 
be here presently and then we can attend to the mat- 
ter in a flash. It don’t take long to sign one’s name you 
know.” 

“Ho?” queried Grube, with a sudden and singular 
gleam of intelligence in his eyes. 

Skinner observed the look, and* flashed akeeninquir- 
ing glance into Grube’s face, but the dull, sodden 
expression of drunkenness was all he could then observe, 
and returning, he sat down in his chair by the stove, 
adding in a forced jocular tone, “ when we have flxed 
the papers, we will have a regular carouse, and make 
the demijohn as well as our spirits considerably lighter, 
I fancy, eh?” 

“Y-e-s; but I never signs en thin’ ’thout reading,” 
responded Grube, dubiously. 

“ Oh, pshaw ! There is no secret about the matter, 
and you can read it if 3"ou are so particular, but it is 
only a dry legal document of no interest or importance 


96 


LITTLE JIM'S PROPHETIC DREAM. 


to anybody but me,” replied Skinner, carelessly. ‘‘But 
you don’t need to bother your brains over it ; why I 
wouldn’t read it myself for a dollar. Let us take 
another — ” At that moment footsteps resounded in the 
lower hall and soon the heavy tread of some one ascend- 
ing the stairs slowly, and with extreme caution, could 
be heard. After a brief pause, during which Skinner 
listened attentively, while the muscles of his face 
twitched the wrinkles this way and that, and the deep 
saffron color of his skin changed to pale ash, while 
he changed position in his chair, momentarily clutch- 
ing its arms with his skeleton-like hands, he faltered 
out in a strange, hollow tone, and his voice sounded so 
unnatural that it seemed even to him that some one 
else was speaking. “ Who can that be ?” 

Miserable mortal! Soulless miser! Staggering 
under the weight of three-quarters of a century of 
wicked life; petrified by sin, reeking with evil thoughts 
and motives toward your fellow-beings, starving and 
suffering amid abundance, with thousands at your com- 
mand ; piling up thousands each year, that finally you 
may die and leave it all ; die with the bitter curses of 
outraged humanity ringing in your ears. Why do you 
tremble and turn pale at every unusual sound? Why 
do you see in every human form and hear in every 
footstep the approach of an avenger, or an officer of 
the law armed with a warrant of arrest? Guilty 
conscience, answer! 

Skinner had borrowed two chairs that day from the 
tenant in the basement of his building; old, rickety 
affairs of barely sufficient strength to hold up the 
weight of an ordinary man, and as he heard the foot- 
steps approaching the door, he glanced nervously in that 


LITTLE jnrs PROPHETIC DREAM. 


97 


direction, and then at the rickety chair near the 
window. Finally there came a loud knock, and 
Skinner called out in a quivering voice, ‘‘Come 
in !” 

“And so I will, and thank ye, sir, your honor, 
Mr. Skinner,’’ responded a cracked, squeaking 
voice with broad Irish accent, and a huge, unwieldy 
form came sidewise through the opening as the 
door swung back on its hinges complainingly. ‘ ‘ So 
I will, your honor, Mr. Skinner,” repeated the 
voice, “Patsy O’Connor, at your disposal — agree- 
able to your request.” 

“Ah! yes, Mr. O’Connor, walk in,” simpered 
Skinner, rising and extending his hand to the vis- 
itor. “Permit me to introduce you to my friend, 
Mr. Smith — Mr. John Smith. Mr. Smith, Mr. 
O’Connor, the Notary.” 

Grube looked up vacantly at the huge form tow- 
ering above him, dropped his limp hand into the 
great palm which the other held out, responded 
feebly to the vice-like grip and vigorous shake, 
and mumbled confusedly about rogues’ gallery, 
pleasant morning, happy weather and New-Year’s 
stormy. 

Meanwhile, Skinner had brought the chair from 
the window, and, placing it near the table, in- 
vited the notary to be seated; but that individual, 
after a critical examination of it, removed his hat, 
pulled his scalp lock and ducked his head toward 
Skinner, observing, “I owes me present honor- 
able position to yez, Misther Skinner, an’ I am at 
yer service t’ do yer bidding in all matters not di- 
rectly forninst me flesh and bones, but when it 
' comes to sich, as sittin’ on a crazy sawhorse o’ th’ 
loikes o’ that, I must beg t’ be excused, yer honor, 
t’ save broken bones an’ furniture.” 


98 


LITTLE JIM’S PROPHETIC DREAM. 


^^Well then have this chair, replied Skinner, 
pointing toward his own. ‘ ‘ That is strong enough 
for you, I hi warrant, and now, before we begin 
business, suppose we take a friendly tip at this,’’ 
producing the demijohn and pushing the glasses, 
when filled, toward O’Connor and Grube. 

^^All right, Skinner, that is my ticket, precise- 
ly,” blubbered Grube as he swayed back and forth 
in his chair. ‘‘Here’s to your luck and the nails in 
your coffin, old leather face, and to your skin full 
of blarney Mr. McCarty, notary or what not. 
Here’s to all of us. May we go up in a whirl and 
freeze, where the roses double sweetness have, 
with the polar bear and the Turks playing leap 
frog with the man in the moon. ’ ’ Then he took the 
liquor down at a single dash, dropped the glass on 
the floor and settled back in his chair blinking idi- 
otically at the fire-fly light of the tallow dip. Then 
O’Connor raised his glass, nodded and pulled his 
scalp lock toward Skinner, saying, “your health, 
your honor, and many a happy New-Year to us 
all.” 

When he put down the glass there were dregs in 
the bottom similar to those in Grube ’s first glass, 
and half an hour later the notary could barely dis- 
tinguish the light of the tallow dip from the uncer- 
tain glimmer of the complaining fire, or Skinner 
from Grube. 

Then Skinner arose, awoke Foxey Grube from 
the delightful little cat nap into which he had glid- 
ed, laid the sheet of legal cap paper before him, 
dipped a pen in the ink, handed it to him, and 
pointing to the lower left hand corner of the docu- 
ment, requested him to sign his name. 

Foxey Grube appeared to be very stupid, and 
sat swaying to and fro on his chair holding the pen 


LITTLE jlM^S PROPHETIC DREAM. 


99 

loosely in his hand and looking vacantly at the 
writing before him. Skinner did not observe the 
peculiar expression of Grube’s eyes or their quick 
motions as they ran over the lines, else he would 
have paused just there in his wicked scheme 
and would have destroyed that paper. However, 
he became impatient at Grube’s delay, and after 
some vehement urging, he at last scrawled his sig- 
nature, and the pen dropped from his limp hand 
to the floor. 

The notary received the same attention, and his 
seal was properly affixed by Skinner who returned 
the stamp to its owner ^s pocket. And so the work 
was accomplished, and while Skinner was folding 
the papers, his guests glided away to dreamland 
and began to snore in chorus. 

Skinner gazed a moment at his tools and dupes, 
smiled grimly, went to the window, opened it and 
looked down on the pavement. There in front of 
his hallway stood a closed carriage, and three men 
were walking up and down the pavement stamping 
their feet and whipping their hands against their 
bodies, else they would have frozen. Skinner 
coughed three times, a dry, hacking cough, and 
immediately those men entered the hallway below 
and noiselessly ascended the stairs. An hour later 
both Grube and 0 ’Connor were in their own beds, 
the latter still in dreamland, his journey from 
Skinner’s apartment to his own notwithstanding. 

When the men who conveyed him to his own 
apartment from Skinner’s garret — and with the 
aid of the night porter put him to bed— had gone, 
and Grube was alone; when their footsteps had 
died away in the great hall and profound silence 
reigned, he broke forth into a mocking laugh, arose, 
lighted the gas, put on his dressing gown and slip- 


LHC. 


lOO 


LITTLE JIM’S PROPHETIC DREAM. 


pers, stirred the fire until it blazed cheerily, light- 
ed a cigar and then sat down in his easy chair to 
think. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE PALACE OF THE AVENUE. 

The residence of Judge Dudley, on Michigan 
avenue, was a commodious and handsome struc- 
ture. All that cultivated taste could suggest or 
art and mechanical skill produce, contributed to 
the construction and adornment of that lofty and 
beautiful building. It was popularly denominated 
‘‘The Palace of the Avenue,’^ and pointed out to 
strangers as one of the finest architectural gems 
of the city. People would stand and gaze admir- 
ingly on its beautiful curves and angles, its grace- 
ful outlines and grand sweep of cornice, with lofty 
roof towering above crowned by a stately observa- 
tory in full view of the lake. The outbuildings, 
arbors, fountains, statuary, lawns and shrubbery 
were in perfect harmony with that noble pile, so 
that the observer, after having carefully viewed its 
wonders of architecture, and its marvelous neat- 
ness and elegance of adornment, could not hut 
associate it with youth, beauty and happiness. 

Singular, it is, how many ghastly incongruities 
are woven into life ; how wealth and misery, beauty 
and hideousness, purity and depravity, warm 
amorous youth and cold, impotent age are often 
shackled together in near and sacred relations. 
Therefore, might not this be coined into an adage : 
“Enter a palace and find woe.” 

But the Palace of the Avenue was a happy home, 
an exception to the general rule, and there was no 
skeleton closet within its walls. Age dwelt there, 
but it was kind, beautiful and noble age in the per- 
101 


102 


THE PALACE OF THE AVEMUE. 


son of eTudge Dudley; and youth and beauty dwelt 
there — pure youth and radiant beauty in the per- 
son of Katherine Dudley. Eighteen j^ears succes- 
sively — the old and new — had in Kate Dudley’s 
divine form molded and perfected an object of 
rare beauty, and nature had placed within that 
temple a mental organization of wonderful per- 
fection, and a pure soul, softly toned to the ear of 
a sensitive conscience, and had made each nerve 
and sense a delicate key to sound alarm to a clear 
understanding. A decided brunette, tall and 
graceful, she was a very queen of women and a 
great favorite in aristocratic society, where she 
was ever the center of a throng of admiring suit- 
tors, and where women fawned around her and bit 
their lips from vexation of soul, tortured by envy 
and longing for revenge. 

Judge Dudley and his daughter lived alone to- 
gether in their elegant home, and alone together 
in the world; for, with the exception of a few very 
distant relatives, they were the last of their name 
and b’ood. Of a proud, aristocratic lineage, old, 
and of honorable fame even in the remote history 
of that grand and glorious nation on whose domin- 
ions the sun never sets, and whose banner flaunts 
proudly in the breeze of every cUme — they had 
kept the name stainless and the blood noble and 
pure, and honor, love and charity were their per- 
petual guests. 

Against Judge Dudley’s life, old Father Time 
had jotted down three score and ten in the record 
book of years; he had reached the foot of the hill 
and stood in the full glow of the sunset of an event- 
ful, yet peaceful life, and only awaited the com- 
mand of the Master to put on the robe of immortal- 
ity and the crown of eternal glory. 


THE PALACE OF THE AVENUE. 


103 


He was a genial, noble old gentleman, tender- 
hearted and pure, and a genuine lover of mankind. 
The poor never appeald to him for aid in vain, 
nor were the hungry ever sent away from his door 
unsatisfied. God had blessed him abundantly, and 
multiplied his opportunities to do good, and during 
his many years of life he had been as perpetual 
sunshine to all around him, and joy followed his 
footsteps — even ran before — strewing his pathway 
with the flowers of peace and love, and wooing the 
bright spirits of memory and anticipation to thrill 
his heart with pure and sweet emotions. And even 
that relentless tyrant, Time, would fain have 
paused in his count and obliterated many a mark 
from the score in his record book of years, if 
thereby he could have secured a new lease of life 
for his friend; he would have broken his scythe, 
corked up his glass and gone to sleep — but alas, 
the laws of the Great Eternal are inexorable, and 
Father Time could only sigh and score as the 
years went by, wooing to his glass the spirit of 
charm that only golden sand might run. 

Charitable institutions had been liberally en- 
dowed by him, and continued to flourish under his 
munificence and fostering care, and the needy, suf- 
fering, toiling poor had ever been his wards and 
pensioners. 

Ah, well does the writer remember that grand, 
proud, noble, honest, modest, old man, and as 
tearfully we summon from the slumbering, shad- 
owy past the reigning spirits of his life, as the 
mighty throng joyfully respond, and one by one 
go flitting by, in letters of light on the crown of 
glory encircling each fair head, we read the rec- 
ord of his kind words and generous deeds. 

Who says that man dies like a beast f Who says 


104 


THE PALACE OF THE AVENUE. 


that the soul of man is not immortal? Only the 
fool. Can such a soul as that we have just de- 
scribed sink into eternal nothingness? No — a 
thousand times — no. It is a part of the great eter- 
nal power which made and controls the universe, 
and when disembodied goes back to whence it 
came, a separate, intelligent, though dependent, 
unit of the great whole, retaining all of the facul- 
ties and pure impulses with which it is endowed 
in this life, reason, perception, atfection and mem- 
ory. Therefore what we call death is only life, 
not a new life, but entrance into another stage of 
the existence of the immortal soul, which never 
began and which will never end. 

Judge Dudley was a profound scholar, an em- 
inent jurist, and had served on the bench with 
marked ability many years. After a long, brilliant 
and useful professional career, he had retired to 
the quiet of his beautiful home, and appeared in 
court only when helplessness appealed for aid 
against money — when outraged innocence required 
a protector and champion. Then he was an irre- 
sisitible gladiator in the arena of jurisprudence, 
and from the power of his profound reasoning and 
the inspiration of his matchless eloquence, injus- 
tice cowered away, abashed, terror-stricken and 
vanquished. 

All day, the first day of the new year, the Pal- 
ace of the Avenue had been thronged with visi- 
tors of every grade and type, from the haughty 
millionaire to the fortune-hunting adventurer, and 
the place-seeking, cringing sycophant, whose lives, 
one and all, might be summed up with this result : 
“Fashion, foppery and fraud.’’ Indeed, they 
were mere imitation articles, floating around in 
the social circle, desperately endeavoring to ap- 


THE PALACE OF THE AVENUE. 


105 


pear genuine. Cut glass and paste elegantly 
mounted, but impossible to disguise; talking ba- 
boons flourishing stale compliments and chatter- 
ing foolish gossip and insipid fashionable slang, 
aping graceful attitudes and parroting set speech- 
es smattering strongly of the ultra English pro- 
nunciation and grievously insulting the letters r 
and h. And so the tide flowed in and out of the 
great mansion where Kate Dudley held court as 
queen of hearts and received the tiresome homage 
of her admirers. 

As shadows crept eastward and night came glid- 
ing over the lake and city, the last visitor departed, 
and, as his carriage whirled away from before 
the Palace of the Avenue, the doors were closed, 
and silence and darkness brooded in the great halls 
and parlors of the mansion, and fair Kate Dudley 
returned to the sacred seclusion of her boudoir 
and sat down to think. She held in her hand an 
unopened letter, and gazed earnestly upon the 
superscription. It had been placed in her hand 
secretly by one of the latest guests who had un- 
dertaken to deliver the message to oblige a friend. 
She well knew the handwriting on the envelope, 
and seemed undecided about breaking the seal. 

‘ ^ I ought to return it unopened, ’ ’ she said, in a 
low musing tone, ''and yet I loved him once— 
when he was good and pure — ere the devouring 
flames of sin had scorched and blackened his soul.” 

Long she sat in profound meditation, telling 
her thoughts to the empty air, while the shadows 
deepened in the angles of the building and dark- 
ness came swiftly in the footsteps of twilight and 
settled down over the lake and city. Finally, with 
a sudden movement of her hands, she broke the 


io6 


THE PALACE OF THE AVENUE. 


seal of the envelope, drew forth the letter and 
read : 

“KATHERINE: — I will not call you dear, because I dare not, 
and yet you are dearer to me than all else of earth. But I will not 
weary you by a repetition of what I have told you many times, and 
what you once believed, and to which you responded only a few 
months ago with pure and ardent affection. 

“Ah, well do I remember the joyous day when you placed your 
dear hand in mine and promised to be my wife. Even now, as I 
write these words, a thrill of joy comes to my heart with the re- 
membrance of the happy events of one year ago to-night. One year 
■ — only one year? My God! it seems to me a century, aye, an eter- 
nity of woe and anguish, for in that brief space of time I have lost 
everything near and dear to me in this life — fortune, honor and 
peace of mind, and thousandfold more than all else, your confidence 
and your love. 

“You have returned to me my gifts to you, tl\e gifts of your 
affianced husband; you have recalled your plighted vows to me and 
scorned me as a vile outcast. Well, perhaps it is just, but oh! 
Kate, is it kind, is it right, thus rudely to break the only charm . 
which binds a human soul to life? 

“Kate, do you not know that there are such things as genuine 
repentance and reform? Can you not believe me wlien I teli you 
that I stand upon the verge of a moral precipice with a yawning 
gulf of sin, woe and despair at my very feet, and that I hold out 
my hands and beseech you to save me from an awful doom? 

“Oh, Kate, will you not save me? Will you not give me back 
your vows, your love, your faith, and lead me away from moral 
death in this life into the paths of purity and peace? 

“I will come to-night to receive from your own lips your answer 
to this, my last, despairing appeal. At the very hour one year ago, 
when you promised to become my wife will I come to you, and may 
your soul be touched by the gentle hand of the sweet spirit of sym- 
pathy, and may your old love for me return to your heart like the 
warm bright sunshine to the chilled earth after a fierce tempest of 
hail, and may you take me back into your warm and generous heart 
and save me from my evil self. CHARLES.” 

As the clock in a lofty neighboring church spire 
struck the hour of nine, diaries Barry walked rap- 
idly along the avenue, ascended the broad stone 
steps of the Palace, rang the door bell, was admit- 
ted, gave his card to the servant, and was ushered 
into the reception room. Sinking down wearily 


The palace of the avenue. 


107 


into an easy chair, he sighed, leaned forward and 
covered his face with his hands. Half an hour 
went by, moment by moment, marked and told by 
the clock on the mantel, which chattered and scold- 
ed at old Father Time for his tardiness. The min- 
utes chased each other along the dial right mer- 
rily, only to be swept by the stern and relentless 
reaper. Time, into the garner of the Almighty, 
to be sown again by those loving hands in the 
fertile fields of futurity, to grow again, and blos- 
som and jdeld, and again to be garnered in. 

Half an hour, and Charles Barry had not moved 
nor changed position, and sat so still that an ob- 
server, but for the occasional sigh, almost groan, 
which escaped from his parched lips, would have 
presumed him to be sleeping. Finally, the door 
noiselessly opened, and Kate Dudley glided softly 
in and paused before him. He was evidently uncon- 
scious of her presence and she stood still, scarcely 
breathing, looking pityingly down upon him. Her 
face was pallid as that of the dead, and her large 
dark eyes glowed with an unnatural luster, one 
hand was raised, and its index finger rested upon 
her lips, which were white as those of a marble 
statue. Her other hand was raised as though to 
ward otf some present but unseen danger, or to 
strike a blow in defense. Finally she spoke in a 
low cold tone which sounded strangely in her own 
ears. 

Taken completely by surprise, Charles Barry 
started as though suddenly struck by an invisible 
hand, glanced swiftly up into her face, arose to 
his feet and exclaimed in a tone of mingled terror 
and alarm: 

^^Oh, Kate, it can not be, it can not, must not be. 


lo 8 palace of the avenue. 

I see my doom written on your face. Oh, Kate, 
Kate — relent, relent and pardon and love me 
again. Send me not away to despair, and to death. 
See, my eyes are red and my face is swollen with 
weeping — weeping because of my sin and folly, 
weeping because I can not stand before you with a 
spirit as pure and proud within me as that of one 
year ago to-night.” Glancing at the clock, he 
added in a low, sad, tremulous tone, ‘‘One year 
ago to-night, Kate, at this very moment you prom- 
ised to become my dear wife. ’ ’ 

“But who forged the knife to sever the bonds?” 
she said, coldly. 

“Fate,” he replied, almost fiercely — “cruel 
merciless fate; but Kate, it is in your power to 
cheat that stern tyrant of his victim — ah—” 

“Fate?” she responded, musingly. “Fate,” 
she repeated, scornfully — “no, not fate, there is 
no such thing as fate! That mythological god. 
Fate, is a convenient scape-goat for all those who 
fall into sin and disgrace. Mythology is a lie, a 
relic of the ages of barbarism, and its silly phi- 
losophy can not be successfully utilized in extenu- 
ation of evil deeds in this age of enlightened hu- 
man progress. Who believes that there are good 
and evil spirits around us, continually at war 
each with the others, struggling to draw us within 
their respective influences ? Bah ! go to the bloody 
cruel ancients for such foolish philosophy and 
study their black art that you may be able to weave 
a charm or compound a potion that will drive away 
the enl spirits, which have stolen your reason, 
your virtue and your honor, if you believe in fate, 
but do not, 1 pray you, insult common intelligence 
in my presence by offering as an excuse for your 


the palace of the avenue. 


109 


deliberate departure from the broad highway of 
integrity, virtue and honor. Fate, no — there is no 
such thing as fate. This is the plain simple truth. 
Man is the designer and builder of his own moral 
fortress, in a great measure. He is the molder 
of his own mortal destiny in some degree. Within 
his heart is the intuitive knowledge of good and 
evil, and if he deliberately sins, he alone is re- 
sponsible.” 

‘‘You are cold and pitiless ” he said, bitterly. 

“No,” she replied, in a softer tone, “I may ap- 
pear cold, but I am not pitiless — neither am I 
as cold as I doubtless appear to you. I pity — God 
only knows how much I pity you, or what sacri- 
fices I would not make to save you from yourself 
— save that sacrifice which you now entreat me to 
make, but that can never be.” 

“Then this — this is your final answer?” he 
said, as his face grew white — “positively your 
final answer?” 

“It is my final answer,” she rejoined, calmly. 
“I decline to be your savior at the expense of 
my good name, and my sacred honor.” 

“It is well,” he replied. “I will go to my 
doom, but I, will drag you down with me into the 
gulf, and you shall fall so low, Kate Dudley, that 
even devils will pity you.” 

“I wish this to be our last interview,” she re- 
plied in a half whisper of suppressed anger, “and 
I regard it as now ended. ’ ’ 

As she uttered the last words she touched the 
bell-pull, and as the servant appeared she said 
to him kindly, “show the gentleman out.” 

With weary, faltering footsteps, Kate Dudley 
returned from the reception room to her boudoir. 


The pAlAce of the aveMue. 


i 10 

sat down in the easy, willow rocker before the 
tire, covered her face with her hands and wept. 
Long she remained thus swaying to and fro, sob- 
bing and weeping like a grieved child, and quiver- 
ing and swaying like a willow tree before a tem- 
pest. A storm of passionate grief was sweeping 
over her soul, wafting away forever the dearest 
and sweetest hopes of her pure and beautiful 
young life. Finally she became calmer, for the 
storm of passion had spent its force, and, as the 
willow, when the tempest subsides, lifts its grace- 
ful boughs aloft, and joyfully flutters its green 
leaves in the warm sunshine, so did Kate Dudley 
dismiss forever from her heart the fond anticipa- 
tions of only a year before, removed her hands 
from before her face, wiped away her tears and 
smiled. It was a sad, sweet smile which rested 
upon her lips, and played among the dimples of 
her lovely face, a smile of mingled grief and tri- 
umph, for she had gained a great moral victory, 
and that sweet peace which comes to the human 
heart from an inner consciousness of duty, well 
and faithfully done, had settled down upon her 
soul. She sat still a moment in deep thought, 
arose, went to her secretary, took from it a let- 
ter which had been previously opened, and which 
bore the postmark of the previous day, returned 
to her seat before the fire, drew the letter from 
the envelope and read: 

“Dear Darling Kitty; 

“Where art thou? Oh, light of my soul where art thou? No 
echoes come back to me, for the plain and simple reason that there 
is no place convenient that can produce the echo. But, seriously, 
Kitty dear, I haven’t seen you for an age, and am hungry, starving. 


THE PALACE OF THE AVENUE. 


1 1 1 


for your loving sympathy. Now I can see the quiet, lovely smile 
on your dear, good face, and hear you say, ‘Why Grace, I visited 
you at the store only a few days ago, and we communed together 
more than an hour.’ 

“An hour, forsooth! Oh, Kittie, dear schoolmate and dear 
companion of my joyous girlhood, counselor and loving friend — 
an hour, only an hour of the sunlight of your presence, and one 
hundred and thirty-nine hours of toil and sad yearning for your 
loving words, and the soul purifying influences of your dear pres- 
ence! But there, there. I’ll not reproach you dear, for like a queen, 
(and a queen of goodness you truly are,) you can do no wrong; 
but Kitty, darling, do come to me as soon as possible, for I have 
much to tell you, one thing especially which will interest you very 
much, and concerning which I need your wise counsei. 

“Now listen, love, while I whisper softly in your ear, something 
which will doubtless surprise you, and, perhaps, gladden your 
heart, for you well know what a life of bodily servitude is mine, 
and how dear, frail mother toils at household duties, and how 
lonely is our home. But listen dear — I know you are just dying 
with curiosity — and here it is: 

“I have just received a letter from Charles Barry, a brief, but 
loving epistle, in which he asks me to become his wife. Kate, I 
have known him from early childhood; he is, as you know, my 
cousin, and yet, I know but little of the inner history of his life, 
but little of his moral character and tendencies, and absolutely 
nothing concerning his financial condition, only, I have heard that 
he has a comfortable income, but from what source rumor saith 
not. Remember dear, that you who know all things which it is pos- 
sible for mankind to know and remain pure and good, have never 
told me ought concerning him, although you have long been con- 
scious of the fact that I greatly admire if I do not actually love him. 

“Now, Kitty dear, come and give me your wise and loving 
counsel concerning this matter, and be assured in advance of my 
earnest, heartfelt gratitude. 

“In his letter Charles says that he will call on me at home to 
personally receive my answer, day-after-to-morrow evening, 
January 2d, and I must see you before that time. Do come 
dear, to 

“Your loving and faithful friend, 

“Gkace Worsham.” 

As she finished reading it, Kate Dudley pressed 
the letter to her lips and then to her heart, care- 
fully refolded and replaced it in the envelope, 
arose and put it carefully away in the secret 


I 12 


THE PALACE OF THE AVENUE. 


drawer of her secretary, and then sat down again 
before the fire to think. 


As the outer door of the Palace closed behind 
him, Charles Barry hurried down the broad flight 
of steps along the paved footway, through the iron 
gate out on to the street pavement, and rapidly 
along the avenue, totally indifferent to direction. 
There was a dull dead pain in his heart, his brain 
throbbed, and passion had usurped the place and 
power of reason. He waded through deep snow 
and along dark and unfrequented by-ways until 
the great bells chimed midnight. Their deep so- 
norous tones rang out in startling x^eals on the 
frosty night, and as he stood leaning against the 
railing of a bridge which spans the river, their 
echoes seemed like human voices saying, ^‘Re- 
venge ! Revenge ! ! Revenge ! ! ! ’ ’ 

His heart, which seemed to have lost its motion, 
and lay like a lump of ice in his bosom, gave a vio- 
lent throb and began to pulsate as the awful ad- 
monition of the bells echoed in his ears, while con- 
fusion vanished from his brain before the swift 
advance of reason and calm, dispassionate thought 
resumed its sway. 

He looked upward. Heavy banks of storm 
c’ouds were drifting across the sky, and he ex- 
joerienced pleasurable sensations in the contem- 
plation of their swift and lofty flight and their 
wild, weird, phantom-like advance, like spectre 
hosts moving to battle. 

A storm was brewing in his soul, a fierce storm 
of x)assion and of hate and black clouds, sur- 
charged with the lightning of envy and the hail 
of revenge, were gathering there. The wind whis- 


THE PALACE OF THE AVENUE. 


II3 

fed and moaned tlirougii the iron framework of 
the bridge, shook the brim of his hat furiously and 
flapped the skirts of his great coat against the 
railing on which he leaned. Snow drifted over his 
feet half way up to his knees, and the frosty air 
])inched his face, but he stood as si’ent and mo- 
tionless as a statue. The swift flight of thought 
through his brain had utterly deprived him of 
the power of motion, and the clockwork of his 
inner being continued to run, though the hands 
were unal)!e to mark the flight of time. 

Finally the bells solemnly pealed forth the hour 
of one, and again they seemed as human voices 
saying, ‘^Home!’’ lie started as though suddenly 
aroused from slumber, raised his hand and turned 
up the brim of his hat which the wind had blown 
-down over his face, stamped the snow from his 
feet and walked slowly away, saying, thank 
you bells for your kind suggestion, but, alas, I 
have no home. Curses on my fate, curses on all 
human kind, and a million curses on your head 
l)roud, scornful Kate Dudley. 

‘‘Ah, is it possible that she can have fathomed 
my designs in case I failed to win her back to me ‘I ’ ’ 
he exclaimed after a inomenFs silence, and stopped 
short and passed his hand across his brow. “Well, 
no matter, it matters not, she has no heart, no soul, 
and is only a beautiful animated breathing temple 
of clay in human form tenanted by a talking devil. 
IXa — ha! fair, cruel, faithless Kate Dudley, you 
drove me forth without one, even one kind word, 
to die the death of a moral leper, and by the fates, 
no not by the fates, but by that mystical being 


THE PALACE OF THE AVENUE. 


II4 

whom religionists call God, by that being in whom 
you profess to believe, if I fail to bring your proud 
head low, even into the very dust, may I never — 
well, 1 ivonH fail, for I have the field all mapped 
out, and every avenue of escape double guarded. 
80 Snoozer’s stew is the next in order, and I hi put 
that pot on to boil immediately. ^ ’ 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE BODY AT THE MORGUE. 

A body lay at the morgue awaiting identifica- 
tion, the same that had been found by the street 
cleaners as they shoveled the snow from the pave- 
ment on Lake street early New-Year’s morning. It 
was evidently the bod}^ of a sailor, for it was clad 
in sailor’s costume, and on its breast were 
tattooed, in India ink, grotesque figures, and ships 
at full sail, and on its arms and hands flags, 
anchors and chains. He had recently received se- 
vere contusions about the head and face, which 
were swollen and disfigured almost beyond human 
semblance, and the coroner’s jury had not been 
able to elicit any evidence in reference to the time, 
])lace, or by what agency the body had been so ter- 
ribly mutilated— more than revealed by the sur- 
geon’s post-mortem examination. lie had certified 
to the jury that the bruises had been inflicted but 
a few hours before death, by blows of a clenched 
hand, as knuckle marks were distinctly visible. He 
further certified that deceased had not received 
any necessarily fatal blows, but appearances indi- 
cated that he had died from intoxi '"nation and ex- 
posure. 

Few had been to look at the corpse, beyond tlie 
usual idle, gaping crowd of ragged vagabonds who 
invariably hang around such places, and yet occa- 
sionally a closely veiled woman of the better class 
would glide in, glance swiftly and timidly at the 
horrible, sickening object lying at full length on 
the marble slab, and then, with a shudder of horror 

115 


THE BODY AT THE MORGUE. 


1 16 

and a sigli of relief, as quickly and noiselessly de- 
part. 

Aged men, looking for absent wayward sons or 
daughters, came also, trembling as they entered, 
and with feeble, tottering steps, approached that 
loathsome object there, but their faces brightened 
as, with lighter tread, they walked away, for it was 
not the loved prodigal. 

Yet, and yet, was it not ‘‘somebody’s” dear one! 
and did not an aged mother in a distant city leau 
over her feeble fire that New-Year’s day and pray 
God to spare and bring safely home her absent, 
wayward boy? Alas, poor soul, anxious, doting, 
fond mother, how she prayed day after day, list- 
ened for the coming of familiar footsteps, and held 
faithful vigils year after year, until her dear old 
eyes became sightless with watching and weeping. 
Then, as the last grain of sand fell from her glass, 
and the last leaf of her book was turned, she whis- 
pered the name of her darling and sank peacefully 
into that calm, breathless, eternal repose. 

The body lay thus all that day of festivity and 
rejoicing, and the night and the day following until 
high noon. Curiosity seekers no longer came, and 
only an occasional anxious one glided in and out of 
that receptacle for the unknown dead. 

High noon! Clang-dong! Clang-dong! rang out 
the bells from lofty spires, and human tides dashed 
and surged along the streets and broad avenues 
of the great Garden City. Howbeit, the body lay 
at the morgue, silent and stark, for the human ma- 
chinery was broken and motionless forever. 

“High noon,” so said a gruff voice, and Michael 
Snoozer paused before the door of the morgue, 
hastily consulted his watch, returned it to his 
pocket, and then entered advancing on tip-toa 


THE BODY AT THE MORGUE. 


II7 

toward tliat horrible something on the marble slab. 
Just then, another form ai)peared in the doorway, 
and as Snoozer glanced around, he recognized the 
person, beckoned to him, and as he aj^proached 
said in a low tone, ‘‘Foxey, d’ye know this ’un?” 

^‘Yes, it is Sandy Burns, and done for, sure 
enough,” was the subdued reply, and Foxy Gruhe 
went nearer the glass partition and gazed several 
moments silently at the bloated features of the 
dead. 

‘‘He’s been at a fist-and-skull punch, and gouge 
rumpus somewhere ’mong th’ bloody foot-pads an’ 
poker pals ’long th’ wharf I ’spect,” said Snoozer, 
reflectively. “But,” he added, after a pause, 
“where th’ feller’s bin more’n two months past, is 
w’at gits me. Where d’ye ’spose the feller’s been 
— and the papers?” the last three words muttered 
to himself, but quite audible. 

‘ ‘ The Lord only knows, ’ ’ was the subdued reply. 
Then instantly Grube whirled around toward 
Snoozer and exclaimed: “ By jingo, Fve struck 
a lead.U^ 

“W’at is it!” inquired Snoozer, interestedly 
rubbing his low receding forehead in endeavors to 
induce a rapid circulation of the ideas, which he 
anticipated Grube would flash upon him unawares. 
But that person’s didn’t flash, as expected, but in- 
stead, recovered his self-possession quite as sud- 
denly as he had lost it a moment before, and his re- 
j)ly, though exceedingly commonplace came quick 
and pointed. 

‘ ‘ What is it Snoozer ? Why anyone can see with 
his mouth that the fellow has been beaten to death 
in some hole in the wall, just look at his face. ” 

“Oh!” growled Snoozer, disappointedly, pulling 
his hat down over his forehead again, “Is that all? 


1 18 the body at the morgue. 

A feller would ’ave thought you’d made some im- 
portant discovery. I was talking ’bout the papers, 
not the man. But ye aren’t right even ’bout that, 
for he got drunk and crawled down beside a wall 
over on Lake street an’ froze to death, leastwise 
th’ doctors say so, an’ I reckon they oughter know, 
them scratches on his face didn’t kill him by a very 
large jugful.” 

He did not see the sly twinkle of Grube’s eyes as 
that individual turned partly around to take a last 
look at the horrible dead, else he might have de- 
manded an explanation, and continued to rub his 
head more vigorously than before, to induce the 
circulation of ideas. Suspicion might have as- 
sumed tangible form, and Grube might have been 
solicited to answer some very troublesome and em- 
barrassing questions. However, nothing of the 
kind occurred, and a few moments later both were 
on the street and walking in opposite directions. 

Foxey Grube thrust his hands down deep into 
the pockets of his great coat, elevated his chin, 
contorted his body into the peculiar Grecian-bend 
poise, and went nipping along with a hop and skip 
in the peculiar gait known latterly as the Boston 
dip. It was his favorite manner of walking and 
withal quite original with him. Grube was incum- 
bered with a superabundance of conceit and a 
heavy smattering of contemptible vanity, for he 
was never so well pleased as when being gaped at 
by a multitude. His clothing was always of the 
finest quality and made in the most excruciatingly 
fashionable style, and his whole ‘‘make up” might 
have been aptly termed “loud,” from the jaunty 
little hat set on his blonde, curly head, saucily 
awry, to his light blue neck- tie and the broad plaid 
figures of his coat and pants, down to his trim little 


THE BODY AT THE MORGUE. 


II9 

feet, in dainty patent leather boots. From boyhood 
be had been that lithe, trim body — a perfect lady 
killer, and so boldly had be flaunted bis peculiari- 
ties that his companions bad coined for him an ap- 
propriate slang sobriquet ‘‘Foxey.’^ 

He was in especial good humor that day, as be 
ambled along, for, to use bis own expressive slang, 
he bad “struck a lead.’^ In the presence of that 
repulsive body at the morgue, be bad coolly un- 
raveled a tangled snarl of circumstances, picked 
out each thread with the nimble fingers of keen 
thought, followed each through every intricate 
winding, and quietly undid every knot until it lay 
before him a mystery solved. His Boston dip 
amounted almost to a clog dance, for, as be skipped 
along, the tapering heels of bis dainty patent 
leather boots kept perfect time to the merry tune 
he whistled. But these outward manifestations of 
delight in nowise interfered with mind labor, for 
motive, that secret, powerful and independent 
spring of human action, operated with increased 
force on the balance-wheel of thought, and went 
straight to correct conclusions. Plans were formed 
with precision and in minute detail, gradual ap- 
proaches were planned, well fortified and strongly 
guarded, while the bombardment, the storming and 
glorious victory followed in rapid succession. 
Nevertheless, he ambled, whistled and performed 
the Boston dip as though thought and action were 
in perfect harmony. Finally, he stumbled over a 
loose brick on the pavement, hurt his feet and 
soiled his dainty patent leather boots, which broke 
the train of his meditations, and in his sore vexa- 
tion of spirit as he rubbed his sore foot, he vicious- 
ly broke the second commandment. 

As he hopped around on one foot, rubbing the 


120 


THE BODY AT THE MORGUE. 


other with his hands, petting that particular corn 
which had received the full force of the shock, he 
inadvertently glanced down an alley, on the cross- 
ing of which he stood, and saw a very small boy 
staggering along under a heavy load of something 
in a large sack, which he was barely able to keep 
on his shoulder. Just then that abused corn was 
forgotten, and the grimace on Grube’s face was 
ironed down effectually by a smile. He glanced 
liastily around, crossed the street, called a news- 
boy from the opposite corner, and said to him, 
nodding toward the alley, and placing a small coin 
in his hand: ‘Hn the alley over there is a boy 
carrying a sack of rags; go tell him that Foxey 
Grube will be at home at three o’clock, and will 
have a good dinner ready for him if he will come 
at that time.” 

Grube watched the screeching news vender until 
he disappeared in the alley, and then walked away, 
keeping a sharp watch in every direction, and mut- 
tering: ‘‘The old rascal is sharp as scissors and 
shadows the boy continually. I must work cau- 
tiously, or he’ll take the wind out of my sails and 
leave me in a dead calm. He is a cunning old rascal, 
long-headed and deep, but I have outwitted him 
thus far, and have perfect confidence in my ability 
to continue the operation. If I have luck. I’ll snare 

him with his own net, and . ’ ’ At that moment 

he ascended the steps ofliis lodging-house, opened 
the door with a latch key, and began ascending the 
stairs, when a door on the lower floor opened, and 
a woman peeped out and said : “ Oh ! is it you, Mr. 
Grube! I declare, I didn’t know your step, you 
walked so much lighter than usual. Been having 
good luck, eh!” 

‘ ‘ Bather, ’ ’ he replied, pleasantly. Then he took 


THE BODY AT THE MORGUE. 


I2I 


a step upward, paused, stroked his chin, twisted 
his imperial and mustache, and, as the woman was 
about to close the door, he called out to her : ^‘Mrs. 
Browne, please have dinner for two served in my 
room at three o’clock.’^ 

At the appointed hour Jimmie ascended the 
front steps of Grube ’s lodging house and rang the 
door bell. His summons was answered by the 
woman of the house who, in compliance with his 
request, conducted him to Grube ’s apartments. 
That individual received him cordially, brought a 
chair and seated him before the fire, chatted pleas- 
antly about the gold fishes, the bird and the plants, 
until the timid child forgot his embarrassment and 
also chatted freely. 

Presently, footsteps in the hall approached the 
door, and two servants entered, bearing a large 
basket and tray containing china, silverware and 
delicious food, piping hot. 

During the preparations for the meal, Jimmie 
shifted uneasily in his chair and watched with 
eager, expectant glances the interesting proceed- 
ings. His replies to Grube ’s chatterings were in 
disjointed and confused monosyllables, and when 
the servants had retired and Grube placed chairs 
at the table, he eagerly accepted the invitation to 
dine. 

^‘But before we begin,’’ remarked Grube, 
must instruct you in table manners. You must use 
your knife and fork so (bending over Jimmie and 
placing them in his hands properly). You must cut 
your food so, and take it up on your fork so. You 
must not reach over the table and drag the food 
from the dishes with your hands, for that is very 
impolite. You must be careful not to drop food 
on the table-cloth or floor, and must, when neces- 


122 


THE BODY AT THE MORGUE. 


sary, wipe your mouth with the napkin. Now let 
me see how nicely you can eat, and how gentle- 
manly you can act. There,’’ he said, after having 
placed a bountiful supply of food on Jimmie’s 
plate, ‘‘fire away now and help yourself when that 
is gone.” Then he also sat down at the table, and 
the attack began. Jimmie handled his knife and 
fork with ridiculous awkwardness, at times utterly 
ignoring them, and while he continued to hold them 
in his hands, used his fingers to the infinite peril 
of his eyes. Grube ’s kind instructions, from time 
to time were duly heeded, and when the child’s 
ravenous appetite had been fully satisfied, Grube 
leaned back in his chair and said : 

‘‘Well, Jimmie, how do you like the dinner?” 

“Oh! it is splendid, sir; you have such nice 
things to eat, and — and — ” He glanced admiringly 
around the room at the beautiful furniture, the 
plants, gold-fishes and at the Parian marble busts 
of poets and statesmen, at the rare old oil paint- 
ings on the walls and at the little noisy Swiss clock 
on the mantel. He hesitated and blushed as he 
swept all these beautiful objects at a glance, but 
finally stammered out, “You have so many beauti- 
ful things here, and are never cold nor hungry, so 
I ’spect you do not care to die and go to heaven. 
You are so happy here.” 

There was a long interval of silence, during 
which Grube was reaching down under the table 
searching for something on the fioor, but, singular 
as it may appear, when he straightened up there 
was a suspicious moisture in his eyes, and tracks 
of two pearly dew-drops, heart-distilled, were 
plainly visible down his face. Jimmie had made 
a fresh attack on the omelet, and was so pre-occu- 
pied in his etforts to demolish that formidably 


THE BODY AT THE MORGUE. 


123 


heap of dehciousness, that he did not observe the 
commiserating glances of his friend, else he 
might have failed in the accomplishment of the 
task. At length Grube asked : 

‘‘How much money did yon get for yonr rags 
to-day r ’ 

“Fifteen cents, sir.” 

“Why, that is very little, is it not, for such a 
large sack full?” 

“Yes, sir, but the jnnk-dealer won't pay more, 
and it is so far to the other place.” 

“When you are searching for rags and paper, 
don’t you find other things of value sometimes?” 

A slight flush came on the boy’s face, and he re- 
plied hesitatingly, “Yes, sir, sometimes.” 

“What do you do with those things? Try to 
find the owner, eh?” 

“Uncle takes such things, sir; I take everything 
to him except such as the junk-dealer buys.” 

They had left the table, and Jiminie sat before 
the fire looking at the blaze as it curled gracefully 
up the chimney, while his face was scarlet, and he 
twisted his thumbs and fingers nervously. Grube 
stood with his hands clasped behind him and back 
to the fire, warming the soles of his feet alter- 
nately and puffing away at a fragrant cigar with 
extreme gusto. 

“What does your uncle do with those things?” 
inquired Grube, carelessly, elevating his chin and 
looking up at the ceiling, yet watching the boy 
from the corner of his right eye, and continuing to 
blow the fragrant, pearly clouds from his mouth. 

“I don’t know, sir,” was the timid, hesitating 
reply, accompanied by many changes of position, 
twirling of thumbs and little sighs. “I — I must 
not talk about that. Un— uncle will whip me if I 


124 


THE BODY AT THE MORGUE. 


talk about that. He— lie said, H mustn’t say any- 
thing about finding the bag.’ ” 

Grube gave a low whistle, closed one eye, and 
drew down the corners of his mouth, and the boy 
slipped from the chair, shrunk back toward the 
door as he talked, trembled, and with white face 
betraying apprehension, clutched the door knob 
spasmodically. 

‘H— I must go now, Mr. Grube,” said Jimmie, 
in a tremulous regretful tone. ‘‘Uncle will punish 
me if I stay away too long, and — and I’m afraid 
he may have heard what you asked me ’bout — 
about the bag. He is everywhere, and sees and 
hears everything.” 

Again the white circle came around Grube ’s 
mouth, and, with a muttered curse, deep and heart- 
felt, he turned quickly, walked to the window, and 
looked away over the housetops to the storm-cast 
sky. It was a scene quite in keeping with the 
fierce tempest raging in his heart, and he experi- 
enced indefinable pleasure in its contemplation. 
Suddenly the clicking of the door latch attracted 
his attention, and, turning quickly around, he saw 
the door standing open and Jimmie in the act of 
passing out into the hall. 

“Don’t go yet, Jimmie,” said Grube, hurriedly, 
and in a pleasant tone, accompanied by a winning 
smile, “Wait a moment, please. I’ll not keep you 
long. Haven’t I been kind to you my little friend? 
don’t go yet.” 

Grube ’s smile and appeal were to Jimmie abso- 
lutely irresistible, and with crimson face and 
downcast eyes he came back into the room side- 
wise, closed the door, and resumed his seat before 
the fire. 

Foxey Grube drew a chair close to Jimmie’s 


THE BODY AT THE MORGUE. 


1^5 

side, readied forward, took liis withered little hand 
in his plump warm palm, and, looking down kindly 
into his face, said, in a musical, modulated tone, 
Jimmie, do you believe I am. your friend!’’ 

^‘Oh, yes sir,” was the quick and earnest reply, 
accompanied by a reproachful glance. ‘‘You are 
very kind, and I know you are my friend.” 

“Well, then, Jimmie, why do you fear to tell me 
anything. Your uncle can not see or hear you, and 
if you really believe me your friend you should 
have confidence enough also to believe that I will 
not mention what you say to me, so your uncle can 
not possibly know what you tell me. Come, Jimmie, 
answer my question. What was in the sack!” 

Thus reassured and encouraged, the boy looked 
up into Grube’s face trustingly, and replied, 
“Some sailor clothes, account books and letters — 
some large letters, and I have heard uncle say to 
himself that they are worth a great deal.” 

“What kind of letters were they, did you hear 
him say!” 

“Yes, sir, but I forget, something about houses 
I think.” 

“Mortgages!” suggested Grube. 

“No sir, that is not the name.” 

“Deeds!” 

“Oh, yes sir, that is what he called them,” re- 
plied Jimmie quickly, brightening, and then a 
troubled look passed over his sad face, while he 
glanced around apprehensively over his shoulder 
toward the door and added, but ‘‘I’m afraid Uncle 
will hear.” Then his voice fell to a whisper and 
he leaned toward Grube beseechingly and asked: 
“Are you quite sure that he is not listening in the 
hall by the door!” 

“Quite sure,” was the reply, very kindly 


126 


THE BODY AT THE MORGUE. 


spoken, ‘^poor child, don’t fear, lie could not get 
there without our knowledge, for the front hall 
door is locked. Come tell me, when and where 
did you find the sack ? ” 

‘‘Early yesterday morning just over the way 
from where we live, right by the brick wall of that 
new house, you know where I mean, don ’t you ! ’ ’ 

“Yes, the dead man was found near there, 
wasn’t he?” 

“Yes sir, not more than ten feet from where 
I found the sack. Boo! how frightened I would 
have been if I had known he was there under the 
snow. ’ ’ 

Grube yawned, gave Jimmie a silver dollar, 
arose, lighted a cigar and said: 

“Well, perhaps you had better run home now, 
come every day and take dinner with me, my 
little — , shall I call you my little son?’’ 

“Oh, yes sir if you please, I shall be glad to be 
your son, if you will have me, but — but — ” He 
stopped short, blushed deeply and hung his head, 
and Grube noting his embarrassment, stooped and 
took his cold little hand in his and asked very 
kindly, “what else my dear, you said — ‘but’ you 
were about to add something — why not be my little 
son?” 

The child gave a quick despairing glance up into 
Grube ’s face, and thence down at his thin ragged 
clothes, turned his head aside, and said, in a tone 
which went straight to Grube ’s heart, “Because 
you are a nice, rich gentleman and I am but a poor 
ragged little boy, and everybody knows I gather 
rags, and — ” He could add no more, his voice failed 
him, and a flood of tears gushed from his eyes. 

“Poor little boy! homeless, friendless, suffering 
child,” said Grube, with emotion, and reaching 


THE BODY AT THE MORGUE. 


127 


down with a sudden eager movement he lifted him 
in his arms, and pressed him to his hosom as ten- 
derly as a young mother caresses her new-born 
child. As he pressed a fervent kiss on the boy’s 
forehead and smoothed back the tiny golden curls 
that clustered there, an expression of ineffable 
sadness came on his face and tears were in his 
eyes. Then placing the boy gently in the chair by 
the fire, he turned away to the window, and as he 
stood looking up at the gathering storm clouds, he 
raised his right hand above his head and broke 
forth in these passionate words : ^ ^ God ! Is there 
a God? If so, is He just, and if just will He not 
call me to an awful account for my great sin? And 
yet am I guilty of all the wrongs and will not the 
heartless villain who gave his young and beautiful 
sister into my sensual arms, that thereby he might 
hold me in his power a creature of his will — to do 
his accursed bidding, and aid him in piling up to 
heaven his mountain of gold, that he might use me 
as his cat’s-paw to roll the hot chestnuts of wrong 
from the fire of sin, and finally to blacken still 
deeper the accursed plot, cast her adrift upon the 
world to wander I know not where, and die, will 
he not suffer also? I must in some degree repair 
the wrong, God help me.” 

Jimmie had slipped from the chair, glided tim- 
idly to Grube’s side, and as the latter felt his pres- 
ence grasped his hand and kissed it. 

‘‘Go, my child,” said Grube, emotionally, “go 
now, and do not forget to come to-morrow. God 
bless you.” 

“Yes, papa,” was the grateful reply, and then, 
as Jimmie went away, both said very kindly, 
‘ ‘ Good-bye. ’ ’ 

As the echoes of Jimmie’s footsteps died away 


128 


THE BODY AT THE MORGUE. 


in the windings of the great hall, Foxey Grnhe 
lighted a fresh cigar, sank down into his arm chair 
and glided into a train of painful meditations. 
The white circle came around his mouth and dis- 
appeared alternately, and he smiled triumphantly, 
ground his teeth together in rage, and muttered 
curses as the humor seized him and prompted; 
and so the hours glided by until night shades 
gathered in the corners of the room and the bells 
tolled joyfully the hour when the toiling thousands 
of the great city eagerly hurry homeward to the 
peace, comfort and rest to be found only there. 
Then he arose, put on his great coat, hat and 
warm fur gloves, locked the door of his room 
and muttered as he passed along the great hall 
and down the stairs to the street: ^‘The Sack! 
dead man — Deeds! Um — hum, my suspicions 
were quite correct/^ 


CHAPTER X. 


SOME ADDITIONAL THREADS UNWOUND FROM A TAN- 
GLED SKEIN. 

Michael Snoozer was actually meditating. With 
almost any other person that would have been 
nothing very remarkable, but for him — Michael 
Snoozer ! to toil in any manner whatsoever, phyi- 
cally or mentally, was something truly wonderful. 

Yet, as he went from the morgue slowly along 
the street he was thinking, reasoning from point 
to point, from cause to effect, and absolutely ar- 
riving at logical conclusions. 

Nine-tenths of his brain lay in the back part of 
his head. In fact, there was no front part, phren- 
ologically considered, his cranium exhibiting but 
very little intellectual development. 

There was absolutely no development of venera- 
tion, spirituality, benevolence, ideality, sublimity 
or mirthfulness, suavity, composition or language, 
while acquisitiveness, alimentiveness, construc- 
tiveness, order, weight and individuality were 
very prominent, giving his forehead its knotted 
and gnarled appearance. 

The back part of his head (drawing a line di- 
rectly over the cranium from ear to ear) exhibited 
huge bumps at irregular intervals, phrenologic- 
al ly named ^'firmness, self-esteem, approbative- 
ness, cautiousness, secretiveness, destructiveness, 
combativeness and amativeness.’’ The hollows 
between were as valleys, the bumps as mountains, 
and altogether his head presented many of the 

129 


130 


SOME ADDITIONAL THREADS. 


peculiar characteristics of ^^Tlie bad lands of the 
Cheyennes” on the great American plains. 

Therefore, to continuously pursue any clearly 
defined or direct train of thought, was to bring in 
conflict the extremes of opposite tendencies, and 
do violence to his mental ( ?) organization. It was 
to array combativeness against caution, destruc- 
tiveness against acquisitiveness, and firmness 
against amativeness. These incongruous elements, 
in like degree and simultaneously excited, could 
not but produce strong eddies and counter cur- 
rents in the flow of his thoughts and precipitate 
a violent conflict. Therefore, unclouded medita- 
tion unbiased by prejudice, was utterly impossi- 
ble with him, being governed solely by the keen- 
est of keen brute instinct. 

He grasped facts with a sort of unerring intui- 
tion, utterly devoid of reason or logic, and had 
often in legal conflicts and political intrigues van- 
quished opponents of prominent intellectual ca- 
pacity, polished and adorned by learning. 

Yes, Michael Snoozer was actually meditating, 
and the effort wrinkled his brows, twisted his 
mouth around toward his left ear, and drew his 
little black eyes back deep into their almond- 
shaped sockets. He was trying to think about the 
dead man, Sandy Burns, the human wreck at the 
morgue, planning to discover Sandy’s place of 
concealment during the previous three months and 
to recover the lost papers. The precise manner 
of Sandy’s death was of no more interest or im- 
portance to him than that of a dog, for he was ut- 
terly devoid of all feeling of pity or sentiment 
of friendship. It seemed highly probable to 
Snoozer that Sandy did not have the papers with 
him when he laid down in the snow to die, else 


^OME ADDITIONAL THREADS. 


131 

they would have been found by the street clean- 
ers when they discovered the body. No, that was 
clearly improbable, and it followed quite reason- 
ably that he had left them with his clothes some- 
where— doubtless at some hole in the wall on the 
wharf. Snoozer would put his human machines 
at work, his scores of sly detectives, to whom the 
highways and runways of the city, the dead-falls, 
traps, scalping places and hiding-dens of murder- 
ers and criminals of all grades, and the secure 
places of concealment for stolen articles were as 
familiar as the runaways of the Sands to Snoozer. 

That was the plan beyond a doubt, and if his 
maciiines should fail to grind out something tan- 
gible, information at least, that would lead to the 
recovery of the lost papers ultimately, it would 
be something remarkable, quite the reverse of all 
similar endeavors. 

He mumbled as he waddled along, one side at a 
time, like a man with a wooden leg, and people 
smiled and paused to look at him, and street imps 
jeered, calling out to him in volleys of slang, 
‘‘old duck legs,’’ “old monkey face,” “old griz- 
zly, ’ ’ but they were very careful to be safely con- 
cealed behind wooden Indians, bulletin boards, 
and house corners. 

To all he was utterly indifferent, deaf to jeers 
and blind to scornful smiles, for his sensibilities 
were as blunt and tough as his skin, skull and 
conscience. 

Finnaly he paused on a street corner, leaned 
against a lamp post, and lighted a cigar. 

“Let me see,” he said, as though addressing 
somebody, “I oughter find th’ feller, ’cause he 
mount help a little. He’s lightning on tracks, an’ 
can smell meanness furder nor any Sander. I can 


132 


SOME ADDITIONAL THREADS. 


give him some pints t’ work np, spur him right 
sharp ’bout th’ gal. Salt th’ old woman so she’ll 
keep an’ not squeal, and — an’ build another ’di- 
tion t’ th’ Dew-Drop Inn. That’s th’ whinin’ 
ticket, them’s th’ figures w ’at ’ll sweep th’ board. 
Full hand flush can’t be beat, ’cept by two full 
hand flushes, an’ t’other feller don’t know how t’ 
stock th’ keards. Let me see. I’ll go t’ Stormy 
Jordan’s Nose Paint. I’ll find him there, I ’speck ; 
bin up all night, you bet; he’s a scorcher w’en he 
gits at it, an’ never knows w’en t’ let up.” 

Then he waddled down the street mumbling, 
‘‘but it’s double work anyhow, blast me eyes, an’ 
I don’t like sich foolishness. Don’t see w’at busi- 
ness Sandy had t’ throw up th’ sponge ’fore th’ 
paper got t’ me, blast me eyes.” 

And so he waddled on, muttering, squinting, and 
chewing his cigar, utterly unconscious of the prox- 
imity of some one, who, as Snoozer leaned against 
the lamp post at the corner, had stood near, and, 
unobserved, listened to his audible meditations. 
That somebody had become deeply interested, 
just why, he was unable to determine. Yet there 
was something in Michael Snoozer ’s words, dis- 
connected though they were, and somewhat unin- 
telligible, which aroused within the listener a 
painful foreboding of evil to some one ; his curios- 
ity was excited, and he followed Snoozer, hoping 
to hear more. 

“The Worsham’ gal is a hyfalutin’ daisy,” 
continued Snoozer, “a rale bontonner an’-th’- 
cow-jump-over-th’-mooner. Barry ’ll have t’ 
spruce up an’ git rid o’ them whisky blotches on 
his face, afore he can reasonably ’spect t’ become 
her worser half an’ gobble up th’ stamps w’at 
she’ll git from her uncle w’at Sandy squelched 


SOME ADDITIONAL THREADS. 


133 


w’en he sent th’ old coon down t’ splore tli’ bot- 
tom o’ the lake. I’m devil enough to do almost 
anything, but blast me eyes if I could do as Char- 
ley Barry did. Hired his uncle squelched to git his 
money, an’ then w’at’s jes as bad, falls in so eas- 
ily with my idea t’ salt th’ ole woman’s coffee an’ 
then gobble th’ gal, stamps an’ all in a lump, an’ 
at one grab. It’s biz, but rough to put a fellow’s 
kin out o’ th’ way, an’ never even wink over ’t.” 

At this juncture Snoozer’s audible meditations 
were interrupted by his arrival in front of Stormy 
J ordan’s saloon and gambling house. It was mag- 
nificent, and possessed many peculiarities quite 
original with the proprietor, particularly the large 
sign in raised gilt letters over the saloon door: 
‘‘Nose Paint.^^ Snoozer was about to enter, when 
the door opened and Charles Barry stepped out 
on the pavement. There was an informal greet- 
ing, a few hurried words, and then, arm in arm, 
they passed into the saloon. 

Leo Cassell’s face was very pale and his teeth 
were very firmly set together as he hurried on by 
the Nose Paint establishment toward the business 
quarter of the city. Snoozer’s mutterings had 
thrown a brilliant flood of light upon a profound 
mystery, discovering to Cassell a dark, demoniac 
plot, and the infamous revelation had unmanned, 
bewildered and enraged him. 

‘^I’ll look to that,” he said, savagely, between 
his closed teeth, as he ran toward his workshop. 
“I’ll look to it, and you shall be amply and appro- 
priately rewarded, infamous villains!” 


CHAPTER XI 


RALPH SKINNER FILES HIS DEEDS TO CERTAIN REALTY 

JUDGE DUDLEY INVESTIGATES AND DISCOVERS A 

LARGE SIZED FLAW IN SKINNER 's TITLE ANOTHER 

KINK STRAIGHTENED OUT IN THE TANGLED SKEIN. 

Ralph Skinner had thrown a bomb into a certain 
real estate office in the city. Not a hollow ball or 
cylinder of iron tiled with explosive material, but 
a plain, yellow envelope sealed and addressed to 
the proprietors. It was simply a letter delivered 
by a small, sad-faced boy in very thin and tattered 
garments, who had timidly handed it in at the 
door and then hurried away without a word of ex- 
planation. The porter had received and delivered 
the letter to the senior member of the firm, who 
found it to contain the following: 

“Chicago, January 3d, 

“Gentleman: 

“On the 17th of last September, I purchased of Mark Berry, of 
Buffalo, certain properties, to wit: 

“Lot No. — , in block No. — , being 75 feet front on La Salle 
street, and 150 feet deep to alley, east half of lot No. — , in Block 
No. — , being 37 feet front on Dearborn street, and 142 feet G 
inches deep to alley. Also lot No. — and — , containing respectively 
75 feet front on Monroe street, and 150 feet deep to alley. 

“All and singular with all buildings, pavements, and appurten- 
ances thereunto belonging. Being and situate in the City of Chi- 
cago, County of Cook, and State of Illinois. 

“By virtue of said conveyance by the said Barry, to me in fee 
simple and warranty, of the property above described; and said 
deeds having been duly entered of record by the Recorder of Deeds, 
in and for the county and city aforesaid. Now this is full and 
final notice to you as agents for the heirs of said Mark Barry 
(deceased), that I have this day served written notices on all ten- 
ants and other persons occupying, or in charge of the buildings and 
other property aforesaid, in substance as above, as applicable to 

13t 


SKINNER FILES HIS DEEDS. 


135 


each individual. And I have in person entered upon and taken 
possession of the property. 

“You are further notified that your services in connection with 
the property will be dispensed with, from and after this date, and 
you are requested to send to me at your earliest convenience a full 
statement of account since date of conveyance to me as aforesaid. 

“Ra PH Skinner.” 

As the gentleman perused the letter, a puzzled 
expression came on his face, and, when he had fin- 
ished, he began again going carefully over, and 
still again scratching his head and stroking his 
beard nervously. As he finished the third perusal, 
the junior partner entered with a slam and bang 
of the door which aroused the gentleman from his 
confused meditations. He handed the letter to the 
other rather excitedly, for one usually so cool and 
self-possessed, saying, ‘‘See here George, here is 
a hard nut for some one to crack. J ust read that, 
and then rub your head for ideas as I have done 
the past twenty minutes.’’ Then, as the other 
drew the letter from its envelope and began to 
read, he muttered confusedly. “It is strange, 
passing strange, I can’t for the life of me under-' 
stand it. It can not possibly be true, and yet— 
and yet, Kalph Skinner never indulges in practical 
jokes. He is always grimly in earnest, thorough 
and accurate, therefore he has made no mistake 
in date or otherwise.” 

“What ! What does this mean ? ’ ’ said the other, 
as he laid down the letter and whirled his chair 
around, facing his partner’s. “I should say it is 
a hard nut to crack, a puzzle with many false slips 
and turns.” Then he turned to the desk, plunged 
his hand into a drawer, brought out a package of 
letters, and began handing them over, and care- 
fully reading the endorsements. “There,” he 
said, as he drew one from the package, “I was 


SKINNER FILES HIS DEEDS, 


136 

quite sure of it; yet it is dated September 22d, 
from Mark Barry. Here, look at that (handing 
the letter to his partner), you doubtless remember 
this, but if you have forgotten it, here it is. How 
can any body possibly reconcile the plain instruc- 
tions there given, with Skinner’s notice!” 

‘‘Sure enough,” replied the old gentleman, 
scratching his bald head (a habit when puzzled), 

‘ ‘ this is what I was trying to remember — the date 
of this letter — didn’t know where to look for it, 
but here it is in plain black and white, in Barry’s 
own hand-writing. Instructions in reference to 
that identical property, and in direct conflict with 
” Here he paused in the middle of a sent- 
ence (another habit), handed the letter to his part- 
ner, and added, dreamily, as though confidently ad- 
dressing a third person, “But Skinner never jokes, 
and makes no mistakes. It was, doubtless, Barry’s 
error in date. He was a careless body, never 

knew ” At this juncture the door opened 

and Judge Dudley entered, saluted the gentlemen 
with a pleasant good-morning, sat down at the 
desk on the opposite side, and began to examine 
some papers. 

“Judge,” said the senior, “we have had a sur- 
prise this morning, and still flounder in the 
meshes of the net.” 

Judge Dudley laid down his papers, turned 
around from his desk and inquired, “What is it! 
Can I be of any service to you!” 

“Perhaps so. In any event, here is the matter 
in a nutshell,” said the senior, handing Skinner’s 
and Barry’s letters to the Judge. A few minutes 
of silence followed, during which Judge Dudley 
carefully perused both letters, folded and returned 
each to its envelope with care and precision, leaned 


SKINNER FILES HIS DEEDS. 


137 

back in his chair, passed his hand over his fore- 
head thoughtfully several times, and then said, 
slowly, as though each word as uttered was being 
weighed in the exact scale of even-handed justice. 
There is a remarkable inconsistency here. Is 
it not wonderful how Skinner has managed to 
amass such wealth. He keeps his funds closely 
invested, not a penny idle, mostly in real estate, 
and here is the puzzle, or at least an important 
part of it. He has not sold any property recently, 
nor mortgaged any that I am aware of, and I al- 
ways endeavor to keep informed in reference to 
such matters, and I believe there are no such en- 
tries on the records, business men don’t neglect 
such things. And here, according to his state- 
ment, we find that he has recently purchased for 
easily the whole Barry Estate in Chicago. He 
states that the date of conveyance is the 17th of 
September, and here is Barry’s letter to you dated 
September 22d, instructing you to attend to cer- 
tain repairs and improvements. It is singular 
also that Skinner should not have taken possession 
of the property at once, and I can not understand 
why he should allow more than three months to 
pass before so doing. It is a puzzle indeed.” 
Then followed a few moments’ silence, during 
which each seemed busy with his own thoughts, 
and then, as he handed the letters to the senior. 
Judge Dudley remarked, ‘Ht is truly a puzzle, and 
yet, I presume, when all the facts appear, you will 
find it all right. Skinner is equal to almost any 
emergency, and if he wanted the property, and 
it appears he did, else he would not have pur- 
chased it, he had only to sign his name to get it, 
as his note is perfectly good for more than double 
the amount, if he does live in a garret and starve 


138 SKINNER FILES HIS DEEDS. 

and freeze. However, I am in quite as much of 
a dilemma as yourself, in reference to it, as touch- 
ing a case in which I am voluntary and gratuitous 
counsel. I alluded to the case of Mrs. Worsham, 
just entered, and which I had planned for to-day’s 
business. The lady and myself were children to- 
gether, playmates and schoolmates. I was cog- 
nizant of her husband’s misfortunes and experi- 
enced deep regret at his melancholy death, leav- 
ing his family in almost destitue circumstances. 
When I heard of Mark Barry’s decease, I otfered 
my legal services to her gratuitously. I feared 
she might fall an easy prey to some designing pet- 
tifogger, for, as a rule, lawyers are unconscion- 
able in the matter of fees, grinding the very last 
penny from their dearest friends, and therefore 
to shield her from sharpers, I have undertaken 
the business for her; but my services will probably 
not be required, since there is no property to which 
(as it appears from Skinner’s letter) Mark Barry 
had any claim whatever. But what Barry did 
with the money he received from Skinner, is an- 
other mystery. He certainly did not have it on 
his person when he fell overboard, as no business 
man would carry that amount of money, particu- 
larly careful, prudent Mark Barry, to save a few 
dollars’ express charges, and I find that there is 
but a small credit balance in bank in Buffalo, and 
no account here. However, it is decidedly unprof- 
itable to discuss the subject without additional 
facts, and I presume I had better call at the Re- 
corder’s office. Perhaps Skinner’s deeds from 
Barry are still there, and if so I will examine 
them. In any event I will examine his title as re- 
corded, and in the meantime please make no reply 


SKINNER FILES HIS DEEDS. 


139 

to liis communication. I will advise you further 
to-morrow. ’ ’ 

Then he closed his desk leisurely, after having 
put each paper back in its proper place, arose, put 
on his overshoes, great coat, fur muffler and gloves, 
stood a moment at the door, with hand on the knob, 
hesitated, looking down at the bright figures of the 
carpet, and finally said, slowly, and with peculiar 
emphasis : ‘‘Just let the matter rest so until I re- 
turn ; I will give the matter thorough investigation, 
and inform you of the result as soon as possible. 
I may possibly not return to-day, but the matter 
will keep until I do, and there can be no necessity 
for hasty action. However, you may as well pre- 
pare to comply with Skinner’s demands, you can 
have the account made out, and when I report the 
result of my investigations, you will be in a posi- 
tion to act promptly and decisively, as the cir- 
cumstances may require.” Then he passed out, 
into the main office, thence to the street, walking 
leisurely, saluting politely this gentleman and 
that, this plain hard-handed mechanic, that brisk, 
covetous merchant, this honest and worthy hod- 
carrier preparing to ascend the ladder with his 
load, that bloated, well-kept, haughty millionaire, 
and this thinly clad, shabby, honest working wo- 
man, hurrying along with her heavy bundle of 
clothing, to receive the miserable pittance for her 
toil from her miserly employer. 

Presently he arrived at the Recorder’s office, 
entered and requested of the chief clerk, permis- 
sion to examine the records. With obsequious, 
cringing and servile deference, the chief clerk 
immediately produced the books, saying as he 
placed them in regular order on the long table: 


140 


SKINNER FILES HIS DEEDS. 


'^Can I be of any further service to you, your 
Honor?’’ 

‘‘Call me Mr. Dudley, please; plain Mr. Dud- 
ley. No, thank you; I only wish to examine a ti- 
tle,” he replied, and began turning over the 
leaves of the record book. But the fellow still 
stood at Judge Dudley’s elbow bowing and grim- 
acing like an opera singer in the green room ex- 
pecting momentarily to be called before the foot- 
lights — stood scraping his feet on the matting and 
trumpeting through his nose into a delicately per- 
fumed silk handkerchief. 

Judge Dudley was evidently annoyed by the fel- 
low’s pusillanimous cringing, and while he could 
not conceal his feelings of disgust, spoke kindly 
as he looked around at the dancing puppet, saying, 
“Thanks, you may return to your duties now, I 
shall require no further assistance.” Then he 
bent over the records again, running his finger 
down each column slowly, examining each entry, 
and with his other hand holding his glasses before 
his eyes. Thus an hour passed, during which there 
was profound stillness in the office, broken only 
by the ticking of the c’ock on the wall, and the swift 
and steady scratching of pens on record books. 
Intellectual and moral excellence is ever recog- 
nized intuitively, and so the quiet majesty of that 
aged gentleman awed into respectful silence those 
vulgar, shallow, cringing, human tools and polit- 
ical manipulators. Each felt the strong magnetic 
influence of a great mind operating as a battery 
the infinitesimal lines of thought radiating from 
a grand center and entagling in its meshes all 
within its circumference ; though no word had been 
spoken, no look or gesture given, all felt the com- 
mand, “silence!” and obe3"ed. 


SKINNER FILES HIS DEEDS. 


141 

Scratch, scratch, scratch, sounded the pens, and 
those human machines cringed and bent over their 
books, while the office boy cowered down in his 
chair behind the stove, casting furtive glances to- 
ward Judge Dudley, as he patiently bent over 
the record books, following the lines with his fin- 
ger, and occasionally making entries in a small 
memorandum book. Finally a quick footstep 
echoed in the hall, and a spry little gray-haired 
man came into the office with a slam and bustle, 
and began to take off his overcoat as he advanced 
saying: ^Well, George!’’ Observing Judge Dud- 
ley, who had straightened up and stood with spec- 
tacles in one hand and the leaf of the record book 
in the other, looking toward him smilingly, the lit- 
tle man instantly slipped back into his overcoat, 
having only partially wiggled out of it. He stag- 
gered backward, as from a blow, reeled against 
the half-open door, which closed with a loud noise, 
and brought up bang! against a desk against 
which he leaned, and went through a series of idi- 
otic grimacings, shufflings and bows. Finally he 
mustered sufficient courage, and approached 
Judge Dudley, who greeted him kindly, feelings 
of disgust and opposite inclinations to the con- 
trary notwithstanding, and said: ^^Mr. Slink, I 
have been examining the records relative to the 
Mark Barry property, and find recent transfers to 
Balph Skinner. Have you returned the deeds to 
him yet ? ’ ’ 

^ ‘ No, sir, ’ ’ was the reply. ‘ ^ The deeds are here. 
George ! bring deeds of Barry to Skinner, left for 
record yesterday ! ’ ’ 

The chief clerk slipped from his stool at the tall 
desk, shuffled around tremblingly, found the docu- 
ments, delivered them to Judge Dudley, cring- 


142 


SKINNER FILES HIS DEEDS. 


ingly, returned to his desk and made his pen fly 
over the paper, in his excitement and eagerness 
to appear very smart and efficient. Visions of of- 
ficial greatness, through Judge Dudley’s influ- 
ence, flitted over his bewildered brain, and he felt 
a thrill of official pride, a dawning of new and 
greater self-importance, an elevation of personal 
dignity, and he frowned savagely over the desk at 
his underlings, nodding his head in pantomimic 
command to work faster. 

Meanwhile the Recorder, having removed his 
great coat and overshoes, sat down at his private 
desk and began to write, and profound silence 
again reigned, while Judge Dudley, much to his 
relief was left to examine the documents quietly, 
and at his leisure. First he read the deeds care- 
fully from date to notary’s seal and certificate, 
pondered over each sentence, frequently consult- 
ing his memorandum book in which he had made 
minutes from the records, and so an hour passed, 
during which no word had been spoken. 

Finally, with a sigh, expressive of disappoint- 
ment and regret, he began folding up the docu- 
ments, one by one, when suddenly, as he glanced 
again over the last deed, he started and half arose 
from his chair saying, excitedly, ‘‘Why ! that is not 
Mark Barry’s — ! ahem! that is — I was about to 
say — ah ! ” 

“What did vou remark. Judge!” inquired the 
Recorder, turning around from his desk and put- 
ting down his pen. 

“Nothing very important,” was the calm reply, 
accompanied by a singular smile— very much like 
a smile expressive of triumph. “I was only think- 
ing aloud, a chronic habit — quite annoying to oth- 
ers as well as myself. Pardon me for disturb- 


SKINNER FILES HIS DEEDS. 


143 


ing you. ’ ’ As the sound of liis voice first broke the 
profound stillness, there immediately followed in 
consequence, a shaking and quaking and the drop- 
ping of pens on the floor from nerveless trembling 
hands, and each clerk slipped from his stool diving 
down in one time and motion, and up again in 
same manner, grasping in their ink-besmeared 
hands their truant pens, and, mounting their stools 
in same time and motion, just as any other perfect 
machinery would perform its work, and began 
scratching away on their books as before. 

During the temporary confusion which Judge 
Dudley ^s exclamation had produced, the Recorder 
sat stamping his foot and calling out to the clerks 
authoritatively, ‘‘Less noise! silence! silence 
there !^’ and when quiet was again restored. Judge 
Dudley again unfolded the deeds and examined the 
signatures carefully, comparing each with the oth- 
ers, and again with one in his memorandum book. 

He had evidently made a discovery, for he was 
nervous and excited — something so very unusual 
in him — the stern, self-possessed Judge, who had, 
during many years of official life, schooled his im- 
pulses and trained his nerves into quietness and 
obedience to his will. Yes, he was excited, and 
while pens scratched and danced over paper, and 
the clock on the wall ticked loudly the passing 
moments, he leaned over the deeds spread out on 
the table before him, comparing the signatures 
thereon with one in the memorandum book which 
he held in his trembling hand. 


CHAPTETl XII. 

SOME DKAMATIC INCIDENTS. 

In the dusk of a stormy winter evening, as 
street-lamps were being lighted in the Garden 
City and people were hurrying homeward, a wo- 
man, closely veiled, and clad in worn and faded 
black, alighted from a handsome sleigh in the 
southwestern portion of the city. Snow was fall- 
ing in fine flakes, damp and heavy, falling thick 
and fast, and a strong north wind drifted it over 
pavements in hillocks and ridges, blocking the way 
against vehicles and pedestrians. Howbeit, she 
struggled along through the deep snow half a 
square, paused before a small neat cottage and 
rang the door bell. Her summons was answered 
by the lady of the house, Mrs. Worsham, to whom 
she said in a gleeful, affectionate tone : 

^‘Good evening, mother, dear; but it is not a 
good evening, on the contrary a very bad one out of 
doors. How it snows and blows! Did you ever 
see the likeP’ 

With an exclamation of mingled delight and sur- 
prise, Mrs. Worsham grasped the hand of the vis- 
itor, drew her gently into the hallway and closed 
the door, and, as she assisted in the removal of 
her wrappings, inquired in an anxious, excited 
tone : 

<<Why, darling, how did you get here through 
this dreadful storm? 

^ ‘ I came, ’ ’ replied the 1 ady, ^ ‘ in our sleigh as far as 
the corner down yonder (bowing her head in the 
direction) as far as the horses could come on account 

144 


SOME DRAMATIC INCIDENTS. 1 45 

of the snowdrifts in this street. Why, they are minia- 
ture mountains. Where is Grace ? ” 

“ She has not yet returned home from work, but will 
come presently ; it is only eight o’clock. Poor child, 
she will have to come all the way on foot, with the 
snow beating in her face, and struggle through the deep 
snowdrifts; but then she is young and strong and brave 
and self-reliant. Come in, dear,” and Mrs. Worsham 
conducted the visitor into the neat little sitting-room, 
where a cheerful coal fire in a grate lighted up and 
cast a ruddy glow on the walls and ceiling, and upon 
the handsome, but ^vorn, upholstery. An air of neat- 
ness and refinement pervaded the apartment, notwith- 
standing the somewhat dilapidated condition of the 
furniture, and the many ingenious devices which had 
been employed to disguise its true condition and to 
cast over all an air of respectability and comfort. The 
effort had been quite successful, at least so thought the 
visitor, as she sat down before the fire, and glanced 
around the room, while Mrs. Worsham went out to 
bring a light. The lady had made the same mental 
survey of that apartment many times before, as she had 
been a frequent visitor at the Worsham cottage, and 
on each occasion she had discovered some new and in- 
genious homelike adornments to add to the comfort 
or convenience of the apartment. 

“ How low they have fallen,” she said, in a low 
musing tone, full of regret and feeling. “ Well do I 
remember their beautiful home on the avenue. Poor 
little Grace — proud, self-reliant, brave little darling — 
too proud to accept my aid, lovingly proffered many 
times even with tears. What a noble spirit, what a 
brave soul ! ” 


146 so A/E DR A AI A TIC INCIDENTS. 

Mrs. Worsham’s entrance with a lamp at that 
moment put an end to her further audible meditations, 
but the visitor continued to think and to regret. 

Mrs. Worsham placed the lamp on the center table, 
turned up the Avick, and as she sat down 'before the fire 
for the first time observed the peculiar apparel of the 
visitor, and gave vent to her surprise in the exclama- 
tion: 

“Why dear, Avhat does this mean? Why in this 
ridiculous disguise — this masquerade costume. Merci- 
ful saints ! faded common black worn almost to 
frazzels — What — ^Y^^at can it mean ? There — there,” 
she added quickly, as a grieved expression came on the 
other’s face, “ there, there, dear, don’t be grieved at 
my hasty words, you knoAV I never mean to be unkind. 
I was surprised, that is all, and spoke Avithout thought. 
And darling, have I not the right to cliide you for 
your good, the sacred right of a foster mother? 
When your own dear mother closed her eyes in death 
as you opened yours for the first time in this life, did 
I not, standing by her bedside and holding her cold 
beautiful hand in mine — promise to be a mother to 
you always ? As you knoAv, Grace Avas scarcely a 
month old, and I took you to my home, not a home 
like this, no, no, not like this, and I nursed you at my 
breast, and cared for you as my own dear child, and 
lulled you to sleep in the same crib Avith dear little 
Grace. But enough of this — you know it all — all, all, 
and you know I love you dearly — fondly, second only 
in this Avorld to my own dear child. Dear child I do 
not speak of this to arouse in your heart sentiments of 
gratitude to me, for I knoAV it is full already even to 
overflowing, but I Avant to remind you of the claim I 


^OME DRAMATIC I MC IDE NTS. 147 

have to your forbearance — even forgiveness, if in in}^ 
anxiety for your well-being and happiness, I chance to 
permit my sometimes unwise lips to utter words which 
grieve you.” 

As she talked in low, soft, tremulous tones, Mrs. 
Worsham had drawn her chair close to that of her 
visitor, and had gently placed both arms around her 
neck, and gazed into her face with an expression of 
tender wistfulness. As she talked and gazed upon the 
face before her, Mrs. Worsham, as on numberless 
similar occasions, experienced a thrill of admiration, 
for it was a divinely beautiful face, and from whose 
dark, languid, drooping eyes tiny tear-drops came, one 
by one in quick succession, the only indication of 
emotion, for she sat perfectly still and silent. 

“ Mother ! ” and the beautiful head sank down until 
it rested on Mrs. Worsham’s shoulder. ‘‘Dear, faithful 
loving mother, may God bless you for all — ” She could 
say no more, for the spirit of affectionate gratitude 
filled her heart and in pity sealed her lips. 

“ He has blessed me abundantly. I have lived long 
with peace and joy as my perpetual guests. I have 
endeavored to faithfully perform every task, and to 
fulfill every duty wdthout a murmur, and I have the 
inward consciousness of His loving approval of my life’s 
labors. There, there, do not try to talk, for you can 
not now, I well know what you would say.” 

“ Mother,” and the beautiful head was lifted from 
Mrs. Worsham’s shoulder, and its beautiful eyes, 
softened and mellowed by heart dew, gazed earnestly 
upon that withered though kind and lovely face, and 
into the almost sightless eyes of Mrs. Worsham. 


i4S SOME DRAMATIC INCIDENTS. 

Dear, kind, noble mother, do not say that your lips 
have ever been unwise, or that they have ever uttered 
ought to grieve me. No, no, you have always been 
loving and tender and good to me; a mother in spirit 
and in deed to a wayward, orphan child, who otherwise 
would have been lonely and desolate in the midst of a 
great human tide, and who might have suffered and 
perished from neglect and want midst luxury and 
abundance. You kept the feeble life within my frail 
body with the sustenance of your own, and in sickness 
watched over me with sleepless eyes and loving solici- 
tude when all else of earth slumbered. But for your 
loving, watchful care I might have been drawn into the 
awful Avhirlpool of moral depravity and death. What- 
ever of goodness and purity there is in my heart, and 
whatever of excellence there is in my nature is but 
the fruit of the seed sown there by your wise and 
loving spirit. Oh, mother, dear mother, why will you 
not permit me to fulfill my duty to you ? Not duty 
cold and stern, but of that quality which is the off- 
spring of love and gratitude. Why do you compel me 
to live alone, with only dear father in that gilded prison, 
when your continued presence there would convert it 
into an earthly paradise. Man}^, many times, dear 
mother, I have beseeched you, even on my bended 
knees, to come and share our comforts and our abun- 
dance, and dear father has as often added his eloquent 
entreaties to mine, and yet on every occasion you have 
sternly rejected our proffered tribute of love and grati- 
tude — what, weeping? Dear mother, do not weep. 
Forgive me if I have said ought to grieve you,” and 
she sank down upon her knees and tenderly grasped 
the withered, toil-worn hands of Mrs. Worsham and 


BOME DRAMATIC INCIDENT R, I4Q 

kissed them, and looked up beseechingly into her face. 
Tears flowed down that lovely, time-furrowed face, 
beneath its crown of silken, snow-white hair, and a 
moment of painful silence ensued, broken only by the 
gentle ticking of the clock on the mantel, and the 
wind whistling to the night and storm without. 

A moment only — only a moment of powerful silent 
interrogation, and Mrs. Worsham had recovered her 
self-possession, wiped away her tears, and, looking 
down into that beseeching, upturned face, said, tremu- 
lously : 

“No, darling, no; do not say that I have sternly 
rejected j^our proffered tribute of love. Do not kneel, 
but sit here by my side; there, that is better. No, 
daughter, not me^ but Grace. I could not share your 
home without fatally wounding her self-respect and 
annihilating her self-reliance, and thus humbling her 
proud spirit. I could not take her there as a helpless 
dependent, and you would never have permitted her to 
perform any service in recompense to you. Hence, I 
have never broached the subject to her save once, and 
she, poor, patient, faithful soul, has never given the 
matter a second thought. But why this queer, ridicu- 
lous costume ? I — ” 

At that moment the door bell rang, and without 
finishing her inquiry, Mrs. Worsham arose and left the 
room to answer the summons. 

It was Miss Grace at the door, and, as she entered 
the hall she received the loving embrace and joyous 
welcome of her mother. 

“ Oh, I am so glad to get home, Mamma,” she said. 
“It is an awful night ; the snow is very deep and drift- 
ing before a furious north wind. I thought I should 


i5o 


SOME DRAMATIC IN Cl DENTS. 


never get here, hut I came the market and bought 
some — ” 

“ Hush, darling,’’ interrupted Mrs. Worsham, in a 
mysterious whisper, at the same time taking the pack- 
age from her daughter’s arms. ‘‘ There is a lady in the 
sitting room who has just called.” 

‘‘ W ho is it — anybody I know ? ” 

“ Her face is very familiar,” responded Mrs. Worsham, 
evasively. “Leave your wrappings in the hall and go in 
at once ; you will find a good fire there. Thanks to 
our unknown, but kind and generous Hew-Year friends, 
I will put this package where it will not freeze, and 
then retire, as I am verv weary. You took supper with 
Mary?” 

“ Yes, Ma, as I had promised her to do, you know.” 

“ Yes, and so I had my tea and toast early, and will 
now retire; good night.” 

“ Good night. Mamma dear,” and Miss Grace, hastily 
removed her wrappings, while Mrs. Worsham passed 
into the dining room and closed the door noiselessly 
behind her. 

“ Good evening, madam,” was Miss Grace’s timid 
greeting as she entered the sitting room and approached 
the visitor who still sat by the fire in the precise atti- 
tude which she had assumed when Mrs. Worsham 
went out to answer the door bell. She had turned her 
back to the light, thrown a veil over her head, drawn 
it down so as to partially obscure her face, and 
assumed a posture of deep meditation. As Miss Grace 
entered the room, she sat perfectly still and made no 
reply whatever to her greeting. Somewhat abashed 
by the singular demeanor of the strange lady, Grace 
approached nearer and was about to speak again, when 


SOME DRAMA TIC IXCIDENTS. i 5 l 

a sound like a suppressed sob broke the stillness, and 
she exclaimed excitedly, Wliy, what can be the mat- 
ter ? Madam, are you ill ^ ” 

With a sudden graceful movement the lady arose 
to her feet, cast aside her veil, turned toward the light, 
held out her arms, and from her lips burst forth a 
merry peal of laughter. 

With a faint little cry, expressive of delight. Miss 
Grace sprang forward and was quickly enfolded in 
those loving, outstretched arms. 

“ Why, you naughty dear, thus to disguise your- 
self and frighten me so. Why, what on earth ever put 
it into your head to appear before me, or indeed any- 
where, in that horrible guise? In that old, worn and 
faded black dress — ugh — it is horrible ! And yet, you 
are pretty and interesting. Upon my word, I don’t 
believe that any costume, no matter how old and ridic- 
ulous, can mar your matchless loveliness. Oh, what a 
joyful surprise! When did you come, and how on 
earth did you get here through this dreadful storm? ” 
And so Miss Grace talked on with lightning rapidity, 
propounding question after question without waiting 
for an answer, as with flushed face and eyes sparkling 
Avith delight, she stood closely clasped in the arms of 
her friend, and gazed affectionately upward into her 
face. 

“ Peace, peace, little one, peace ! ” said the visiter, 
when the storm of Grace’s greeting had somewhat 
abated. Be quiet and listen, Avhile I answer some of 
your questions. I came about an hour ago in our 
large cutter to the corner out there, and then literally 
plowed through the snow the balance of the Avay. But 
you have not asked me why I came through this 


152 SOME DRAMATIC INCIDENTS. 

dreadful storm to-night» and when I tell you, that will 
explain this comical disguise which has so shocked the 
nerves of our dear mother and yourself. •JS’ow, dear 
little sister, attention, and I will explain all. Yester- 
day morning I received your letter.” 

“ Ah ! ” gasped Grace, ‘‘ I had almost forgotten that 
in the joy of meeting you.” 

‘‘ Peace, little one, until I have finished my explana- 
tions. Yesterday I received a very loving and inter- 
esting letter from you, and I came to-night to save 
you, my sister, from a living death.” 

“Why, Kitty darling, what do you mean?” inquired 
Grace in a frightened tone. 

“ This, darling, plainly and briefly. Charles Barry 
is a moral leper, a gambler and a companion of mur- 
derers and thieves. He is utterly lost to all sense of 
shame, utterly abandoned to vice, a moral shipwreck 
and a dangerous man. One year ago last night I 
promised to become his wife, and I dearly loved him, 
for then he was good and pure. Since then the flames 
of sin have swept over his soul, leaving it scorched, 
blackened and depraved. Dear father made that 
dreadful discovery three months ago, and I immedi- 
ately broke off the engagement. Yesterday I received 
this note from him by the hand of one of his former 
friends, who has been endeavoring to reform him,” and 
she placed the letter in Grace’s hand. 

With white face and quivering hands, Grace Worsham 
took the letter without a word of reply, moved nearer 
to the light and began to read, while the visitor sank 
wearily down in a chair on the opposite side of the fire, 
folded her arms across her bosom and watched with 
painful sympathetic interest the record of thoughts as 


SOME DRAMATIC INCIDENTS, 


153 


written on that fair, young face. Grace Worsham read 
the letter, slowly and calmly through to the end, 
slowly and calmly folded and returned it to its envelope, 
arose, w’ent over to where the visitor sat, placed the 
letter in her hand, knelt down on the floor beside her, 
leaned forward on her lap with clasped hands, and, 
looking up into her face said, calmly, “and sister, you 
granted him an interview % ” 

“ Yes, dear, and he came at the appointed hour — 
came with scarlet eyes and swollen face, with the mark 
of sin upon his brow and his breath tainted with the 
fumes of hell ; came with treachery and deceit in his 
heart and falsehood on his lips. Our interview was 
brief and our conversation to the point. I thought to 
be merciful and send him away kindly, but he was 
brazen and shameless, and I was compelled to unmask 
him. Then he became threatening and insolent, and I 
rang for the servant, whom I directed to show him out, 
and he went away, hissing defiance and terrible threats 
against me.” 

“And, dear sister, you had previously read my 
letter \ ” 

“ Yes, Grace.” 

“ And why did you not come to me to-day ? ” 

“ Because I tvanted to come here and warn you of 
your danger, and then confront the villain and make 
him sneak away from your pure presence like a thief 
caught in the act.” 

“ It is w^ell,” replied Grace, with wonderful composure, 
for her nerves had been sorely tried. “ Oh, faithful, 

brave, noble sister! How can I ever ” 

Her words were cut short by the ringing of the 
door-bell, and as she arose to her feet, she threw her 


154 SOME DRAMATIC INCIDENTS. 

arms around the neck of her friend and kissed her 
softly upon her lips, “ He has come,” she said, quickly, 
as she took away her arms. ‘Hlis interview with me 
will also be brief, and our conversation to the point.” 
She paused hesitatingly, and after a moment’s reflection, 
added, “ But dear I prefer to be alone with him at first, 
that I may also be able to unmask him. It is a solemn 
and painful duty, but it must be done. It is quite 
comfortable in the dining-room, and, dear, if you will 
step in there, I will call you at the proper time, by rat- 
tling the door-knob.” 

Again the door-bell rang, and violently, too, and 
with an exclamation of impatience, and just one more 
kiss, Grace Worsham hurried away to answer the 
summons. The visitor passed hastily into the adjoin- 
ing room, but, woman-like, paused on the threshold, 
and, holding the door partlj^ open, listened. She 
heard the click of the bolt in the lock, followed by a 
screeching of frosty hinges and a draft of cold air. 

‘‘Good evening, little chick,” said a thick voice in the 
hall, where’s your mar?” 

“If you mean my mother,” replied Grace, coldly, 
“ she has retired. Did you call to see her?” 

“ JSTo, little bird ; I did not cali to see her, and don’t 
want to see her, which is the reason why I inquired. 
Snow-bird, shall I call you? I presume that you know 
it is snowing. The wind is blowing big guns down 
on the lake, and the waves are breaking up the ice in 
the mouth of the harbor, and if the wind should shift 
around into the right quarter, a whole fleet of vessels 
will drift out to sea and go to the bottom.” 

“Yes, I know it is snowing, but I am not a snow- 
bird, and I will be obliged, Charles, if you will address 


^OME DRAMATIC INCIDENTS. 155 

ftie by my proper name. As for the wind, I know it is 
strong, for I have tested its strength to-night, and as 
for the vessels in the harbor, and the possibility of their 
being driven out to sea and lost, ‘ God rules the winds 
and the waves,’ and He doeth all things well.” 

They had entered the sitting-room and sat down on 
opposite sides of the fire, and, as they talked, he held 
his hands close to the glowing grate to warm them. 

As she ceased speaking, he straightened up, looked 
steadily into her face a moment, and then said, in a 
quiet and more respectful tone: ‘‘ What has happened, 
Grace? What have I said or done to displease you? 
I came bore with a joyful heart, thrilling with fond 
hopes and bright anticipations, expecting a kind, even 
loving, greeting, but you receive me with calm indif- 
ference and with a cold formality, which chills my 
spirits and grieves me. Has anybody been poisoning 
your mind against me ? You received my letter ? ” 

“ Yes,” she said, coldly. “ Yes, I received your let- 
ter.” 

“ And, Grace, you read and carefully considered it?” 

Yes,” she replied, in the same tone, ‘‘ I read it all, 
and gave it all the consideration it deserved.” 

He arose and walked over to her side and stood 
silently looking down upon her with a troubled expres- 
sion on his face. Several moments he stood thus, as 
though striving to read her thoughts, and then said, 
slowly : 

“ And is that all ? Have you no kind and hopeful 
words for me? Ho sympathy with my fond aspira- 
tions ? Gh, Grace, what a troubled life is mine, even 
in its early morning! When I should be sailing on a 
smooth sea and in bright sunshine under a cloudless 


156 SOME DRAMATIC iNCtDEMrS. 

sky, I am in the midst of a fearful tempest with broken 
rudder and tattered sails. Near at hand through the 
blinding storm I see a safe harbor and a staunch life- 
boat riding the gentle waves. Grace, dear Grace, your 
love is the safe harbor, and the lifeboat is your own 
dear self.” 

He paused a moment, irresolute, and then opened 
his lips to speak, when the door bell rang gently and 
Miss Grace quickly arose, and, without a word of apol- 
ogy, hastened to answer the summons. As she drew 
the bolt and opened the door, and the cold air came 
rushing in, Charles Barry ground his teeth together 
and bit his lips in vexation of soul. He heard a joyous 
exclamation from Miss Grace, and her cordial words 
of welcome ; he heard a man’s voice, low-toned to the 
music of sweet emotion, in earnest and grateful 
response. He knew the voice of that man in the hall, 
and its very tones which were hateful to him bej^ond 
everything else on earth, at that moment seemed to 
sting him to the very soul. Hastily, even savagely, he 
thrust his hand behind him and grasped the handle of 
a pistol in his hip pocket, but as quickly changed his 
purpose, and with noiseless tread, like a wild beast 
seeking concealment from which to spring upon its 
prey, he reached the door of the dining-room, swung 
it open and passed silently in, just as Grace Worsham 
and Leo Cassell entered the sitting-room from the hall. 
Miss Grace, who was a little in advance of Cassell, 
caught a glimpse of a human form gliding through the 
opposite doorway, and stopped short with a faint excla- 
mation of surprise and dismay, but quickly regaining 
her composure she gracefully ushered in her guest, 
while a smile of intense amusement came upon her face. 


SOME DRAMATIC INCIDENTS. 


i57 


As be closed the door behind him, Charles Barry 
stood abashed in the presence of a woman clad in a 
suit of worn and faded black, and whose face Avas 
closely veiled. 

‘‘ Pardon me, madam,” he said, confusedly. I Avas 
not aware of any one being here ; I — really, I — ” 

He had seen her soft, Avhite, dimpled hand, and a 
thrill of admiration ran through his Avhole being. 

“ But,” he added quickly, while a deep flush came 
over his face, “ it is a very pleasant surprise to me 
nevertheless, and if your face is as fair and symmet- 
rical as your hand, perhaps I shall never cease to bless 
the impulse and the moment Avhich brought me to 
you.” 

Gliding nearer to her, he continued in a soft, insinu- 
ating tone : 

“ I am an enthusiastic admirer of • nature unadorned,’ 
and your beautiful Avhite hand, Avith its lovely pink 
nails and charming dimples, unadorned by gems or 
bands of gold, thrills me Avith an indescribable long- 
ing, for Avhat I can not tell, unless it be to clasp that 
hand in mine and feel it throb and flutter there. I 
Avould like much to lift the somber A^eil Avhich hides 
your face, as morning mist obscures the face of the 
sun, for I knoAV it is fair. Such a lovel}^ graceful form 
and majestic presence must surely be croAvned as in 
harmonious keeping Avith the face of a very goddess. ” 
Little by little he had glided toward her, as she stood 
mute and motionless, and, as he uttered the last word, 
he stood very close before her and took her unresisting 
hand in his. It Avas warm and soft, and seemed to 
flutter in his palm like a tiny bird in the grasp of* its 
captor, and its delightful quivering Avas to his 


158 SOME DRAMATIC INCIDENTS. 

tensioned nerves like the vibrations of an electric cur- 
rent. 

“Now, darling,” he whispered,^ will you not remove 
your veil, that I may see your lovely face?” 

, -She did not move, she did not speak, she scarcely 
seemed to breathe. Suddenly she withdrew her hand 
from hTs grasp, raised it to her head, drew back the 
veil from before her face, and in silence turned toward 
him, with white lips and gleaming eyes. 

.One glance was quite enough for Charles Barry; 
one swift glance, and he reeled backward as though the 
floor had'suddenly given away under his feet, and he 
would have fallen but for a chair which he grasped and 
leaned on. Several moments he stood silent and 
motionless, swaying to and fro, his face white as mar- 
ble and his eyes glassy and expressionless, and then 
a sudden light dawned within them; they glowed 
brighter and brighter until they flashed forth in a 
fiendish expression of mingled hate and defiance. Then 
his voice found utterance, and he hissed forth in pas- 
sionate tones : 

“ I am satisfied, quite satisfied, Kate Dudley !” 

lie stood near the door which had sprung ajar, and 
he heard Leo Cassell in the sitting-room, say to Grace 
Worsham : 

“ I have something of importance to say to you, 
Grace, something which may concern vitally your 
future happiness, and even the life of your nearest and 
dearest friend. It is my misfortune in matters of real 
moment to be plain and blunt of speech, and therefore, 
I labor under many painful embarrassments, as my 
motives are often misconstrued by those who do not 
know me intimately.” 


SOME DRAMATIC INCIDENTS. 


159 


“ That is right,” said Kate Dudle}^, as Charles Barry 
approached nearer the door and assumed a listening 
attitude, “ that is in perfect accord with your depraved 
nature; you are just the man to listen to the confidences 
of other people, but permit me to remind you of the 
fact that ‘ eavesdroppers rarely hear any good of them- 
selves.’ It is a good old maxim, and you would do 
well to bear it in mind, else you may become a living 
witness of its truth.” 

How came you here ?” he inquired in a husky half 
whisper, turning away from the door and glaring 
fiercely into her face. 

“ I came part of the way in my cutter, and part of 
the way on foot,” she replied, with a cold smile. 

‘‘And for what purpose? To poison the mind of 
that foolish girl in yonder against me ? I knew it — I 
knew when she received me so coldly, that you, fair 
soulless fiend, had been pouring into her silly ears the 
history of my misfortunes. You go straight and 
swiftly to your doom.” 

“ As for your threats I do not fear them, but your 
conclusions are singularly correct, considering their 
source. ‘ A guilty conscience needs no accuser.’ The 
quotation is very appropriate in your case.” 

lie made no answer to her sarcastic reply, but it cut 
him to the very soul, and he again leaned toward the 
door and listened. Kate Dudley, even where she 
stood in the center of the room, could plainly hear Leo 
Cassell’s words, as he spoke in a clear, distinct tone, 
for it mattered not to him though the whole world 
listened. 

“ I have given the subject serious consideration,” he 
said^ “ and have been puzzled as to how I could broach 


i6o 


SOM£ DJ;: AM A TIC INCIDENTS, 


it to you, and at the same time escape the suspicion of 
intrigue — of how I could impress you with the fact of 
my entire personal disinterestedness as concerns any 
hope of reward or desire to place you in any degree 
under obligations to me. I wish to assure you, and I 
trust you will believe, that I am actuated solely by a 
sense of duty, and an unselfish desire to shield you 
from the machinations of a scheming, dangerous 
man.” 

They were standing before the fire, Leo Cassel and 
Grace Worsham, and he held both of her hands in 
his own, while he gazed earnestly down into her 
upturned face, over which innocent surprise and appre- 
hension alternately flitted, playing bo-peep among the 
charming dimples, and leaving behind them the rosy 
flush of anticipation. 

Though I have never told you so in words, Grace,” 
he said, ‘‘you can not but know that I love you. Still 
it is barely possible that you have not made that dis- 
covery, for I have endeavored to be very guarded in 
every respect. I have not designed that you should 
even suspicion my true sentiments in relation to you, 
because I am a penniless nobody, while you are young, 
educated, refined, pure and beautiful, and may with 
absolute certainty of success, aspire to a position in 
life which I can never, even reasonabh", hope to attain. 
Therefore it would have been, and the conditions still 
remain unchanged — it would have been little, if any, 
short of a criminal design on my part to have even 
wished to be more to you than a faithful, honest 
friend.” 

As he talked, in a calm, earnest voice, she stood with 
bowed head, her face wore a charming flush, and her 


SOME DRAMATIC INCIDENTS. l6l 

very soul was mirrored there. Her long, silken lashes 
quivered and glistened as they gathered the moisture 
of heart-distilled dew, and her bosom heaved and un- 
dulated like a tiny lake kissed by gentle zephyrs. Her 
warm breath, sweet as the perfume of wild spring 
flowers fanned his cheeks, and yet, although he was 
but a man with human instincts, passions and frailties, 
he stood in that almost divine presence as an iceberg in 
mid- ocean, rendered purer and better by the contact, 
though not insensible to the winsome voluptuousness 
of an August sun. 

In the adjoining room, Charles Barry, with face close 
to the door, was muttering deep and heartfelt curses, 
while Kate Dudley remained standing in a graceful 
posture by the table in the center of the room indulg- 
ing in scornful comments, and her words punctured his 
heart and caused him to flinch, as from thrusts of red 
hot needles into the flesh. He writhed under the 
torture of her words, ground his teeth together sav- 
agely, and flecks of bloody foam oozed from between 
his lips and fell upon his shirt bosom. 

‘‘ I can trust you Leo,” said Grace, still with averted 
face. “ I know you are a true, noble man, and I honor 
you and value greatly your generous friendship. Tell 
me all frankly. How, Leo, I am all attention,” and 
she looked up into his face, trustingly. 

“Your cousin, Charles Barry,” responded Cassell, 
“ not satisfied with having procured the assassination 
of his uncle and yours — Mark Barry — is now plotting 
with that same human monster whom he bribed to 
accomplish that cruel wicked deed— is plotting with him 
against your mother’s life, in the hope of being able 
thereafter to degrade you to his level by inducing you 


i 62 


SOME DRAMA TIC INCIDENTS. 


to become his wife. His prime object being to secure to 
himself your Uncle’s entire estate, and he well knows 
that while your mother lives, that end can never be 
accomplished.” 

Charles Barry in the adjoining room, clutched with 
one hand the back of the chair on which he leaned, 
and with the other, sought the handle of the pistol con- 
cealed in his pocket, drew it forth, and, as Cassell 
paused, made a sudden movement forward and glared 
savagely through the opening. 

Kate Dudley’s quick eyes detected his designs in 
advance of his movements, and, quick as thought, she 
glided noiselessly to his side, and ere he was aware of 
her proximity, clutched his hand and wrung the 'weapon 
from his grasp. “With flashing eyes he sprang toward 
her with clenched hand upraised to strike, but she 
silently pointed the cocked pistol at his head and 
smiled. 

“ Kow I have told you all,” said Cassell, as he released 
Grace Worsham’s hands, and I need only add by way 
of assurance, and to quiet your fears, if any, that I 
will do all in my power to shield you from his evil 
designs, to defeat his wicked plans, and to bring him 
and his vile companions to justice. Until that is accom- 
plished, I shall be tireless — sleepless, and alike indiffer- 
ent to the pinchings of poverty, and the plottings and 
menaces of fortune hunters and murderers. And now, 
good night. I have 'warned you. I have only done my 
duty, and may the good and kind Father of all, protect 
you, is my fervent prayer.” 

She followed him out in the hall, assisted him in 
putting on his overcoat, thin and worn, tied caress- 
ingly the tattered woolen muffler around his neck, 


SOME DRAMA TIC INCIDENTS. T 63 

tucked in the ends neatly, toyed and trifled with his 
buttons, and then there was a gentle pressure of hands, 
a kind good night, and he passed out into the dark- 
ness and storm. 

As the hall door closed behind Leo Cassell, Kate 
Dudley removed the cap from the pistol and handed 
it back to the man, who still stood by the door clutch- 
ing the back of the chair, as though he would use it as 
a weapon to crush and annihilate all human kind. In 
his rage, he had gashed his lips with his teeth, and 
drops of blood trickled down his chin and fell on his 
shirt bosom. 

Go, now,” she said, in a tone of withering scorn. 
“ Go, now, vile human fiend, robber of virtue, wrecker 
of human lives. Go, murderer, perjurer, scheming villain, 
and find your level among your vile and loathsome 
companions.” 

With a horrible oath he snatched the weapon from 
her hand, dashed through the door into the sitting 
room, gnashing his teeth in rage. I’ll have his heart’s 
blood,” he hissed. “I’ll teach the miserable dog to 

attend to his own affairs. I’ll ” Grace had thrown 

her arms around his neck and began begging piteously 
for the life of her faithful friend. “Would you murder 
a defenseless man?” she asked, in pathetic tones. 
“ Would you follow him like an assassin and without 

warning, and coward-like steal upon him and ” 

He thrust her rudely aside, rushed into the hall, and 
though he paused but a moment to put on his over- 
coat and hat, he heard Kate Dudley say, “ Let him go, 
darling, don’t fear, the villain will find only ignomin- 
ious defeat at the hands of that brave true man. Yes, 
let him go to the defeat and humiliation, which awaits 


164 


SOME DRAMATIC INCIDENTS. 


him if he presumes to attack your friend under any 
circumstances. The man who can utter such noble 
words as Leo Cassell did to you, can be but honorable, 
faithful and valiant, though he be homeless, friendless 
and penniless. I’ll answer for his courage, wisdom 
and discretion, and I’ll insure his complete triumph.” 

Charles Barry waited to hear no more, but Avith 
curses deep and heartfelt he flung open the hall door 
and rushed out into the night. A furious storm was 
raging ; the snow beat in his face and the Avind Avhirled 
him along. The streets AA^ere dark and silent, the faint 
glimmer of street lamps barely discernible through the 
blinding snoAv-fall. Yet he ran like a deer pursued by 
hounds, ran through deep snoAV Avith Avonderful speed, 
assisted by the Avind and spurred on by that most 
relentless of riders, revenge. On, on, square after 
square, ov^er the river bridge — ah ! there Avas a form 
moving slowly along before him, a man shabbih^ 
clothed, struggling through snoAV drifts, and he 
laughed — even shouted in fiendish joy. 

Finally he came to a harness shop from which a 
brilliant flood of light sAvept out OA^er the ])avement, 
and as he glanced up at the shoAV AvindoAA’s he paused, 
hastily entered, and inquired of the man behind the 
counter, “ How much for that?” pointing at a long- 
braided whip in the windoAv. “ One dollar,” AA^as the 
reply, and throwing doAvn the money, he snatched the 
Avhip from the man’s hand and hurried out. 

That struggling form had gained but half a square 
and Barry could see him plainly, the street being AA’ell 
lighted from store windows, and he hurried on, lessening 
the distance between them cA^ery moment, until finally, 
before a saloon on a street corner, the tAvo men met. 

“ Defend yourself if you can, or dare, miserable 


SOME DRAMATIC INCIDENTS. I 65 

slanderer,” liissed Barry, “ or prepare to be whipped 
like a dog, for vengeance has come upon you ! ” 

‘‘ Who are you ? and what do you want with me 
demanded Cassell, stepping back as Barry drew the 
whip from under the skirt of his great coat, raised it 
above his head and brought it down with terrific 
force, Cassell sprang backward, but not in time to 
escape the cruel blow, and the keen lash cut a deep 
gash down his cheek under his right eye. Barry held 
in his left hand his pistol, cocked and pointed at 
Cassell’s head, while, with his right hand, he used the 
whip on the defenseless man with terrible effect, cutting 
the blood from his face and hands at every blow. The 
noise of the conflict brought the vile inmates of the 
saloon and adjoining shops out on the pavement, and 
they gathered around the two men shouting and jeer- 
ing. Cassell retreated backward step by step, receiv- 
ing the blows in silence, not even deigning to raise his 
hands to ward them off. But there was a strange 
gleam in his eyes as he watched his antagonist’s every 
movement. Finally he paused, threw up his hand, 
caught the whip as it descended, and with a powerful 
wrench twisted it from Barry’s hand. Instantly there 
was a sh-arp click, and the hammer of Barry’s pistol 
fell upon the nipple, but, it missed fire, for Kate 
Dudley had removed the cap. The result was fatal 
to Barry, for the next instant Cassell sprang forward 
with the fury of a wounded tiger, and with the butt 
end of the whip delivered a blow on Barry’s head 
which felled him to the earth as dead. Blood flowed 
from his ears and nose, and collected in a pool under 
his head, and in the excitement which followed, Cassell 
slipped away through the crowd and vanished in the 
arkness. 


CHAPTEK XIIL 


PEEL EYE AND SNOOZER. 

Michael Snoozer’s Dew Drop Inn, at the Sands, was 
brilliantly lighted, that stormy winter night, and the 
caldron of sin boiled more furiously than usual. Around 
in the mazes of the dance whirled the painted ghosts 
and bloated demons, while the storm of passion and the 
howls of debauchery within, were in perfect harmony 
with the conflict of elements and moaning winds with- 
out. 

There had been an election that day, and Michael 
Snoozer had driven to the polls, and voted his herd of 
human cattle, and, true to his promise, liquid hell was 
dispensed at the Dew Drop Inn, gratuitously and with- 
out stint, to his faithful followers. Since dark, there 
had been but one long howl of oaths, a continuous roar 
and jingling of beer glasses, and a steady thundering of 
dancing feet on a bare oak floor. Painted-faced women, 
blear-eyed, debauched and desperate, lost to all sense 
of shame, mere brutes in human forms, smoked cigars, 
drank poison and blasphemed, while the voting cattle, 
called men, whirled them around in lascivious move- 
ments, to which they misapplied the term, danceP 

And the great man of the Dew Drop Inn, Michael 
Snoozer, was supremely happy that night, because he 
had reached the zenith of power and greatness toward 
which he had struggled year after year. He had 
steadily drifted toward that consummation — had 
mounted step by step, always maintaining his advance — 

i66 


PEEL EYE AND SNOOZER. 


167 


never retreating, until at last, witli one supreme effort 
he had stormed and carried the heights. Yes, victory 
perched upon his banner, and the fickle goddess smiled 
upon him, for that day he had been created a ruler, even 
the ruler of a great city, to rule and drive to the verge 
of ruin a quarter of a million of people. So, there at the 
Dew Drop Inn, election night, his faithful followers 
were reaping the rewards of valiant service, and they, 
too, were happy. 

Yes, Michael Snoozer was in exceedingly good 
humor. The India-rubber-like wrinkles on his face 
had been smoothed down by the warm iron of gain? 
and he leered and chuckled as he sat in his easy chair 
before a full grate of burning coal, in the sacred seclu- 
sion of the inner court of his council chamber. 

The great bells of the city tolled out, through the 
blinding storm, the hour of nine, and as their last sol- 
emn echoes died away on the tempestuous bosom of 
the lake, there came a light, hesitating rap on the door 
of the council chamber, which broke the train of 
Michael Snoozer^s meditations. That august personage 
stopped rocking, sat up straight in his chair, chewed his 
cigar vigorously, elevated his beetling eyebrows until 
the India-rubber-like wrinkles rippled over his forehead 
like the surface of a tiny lake swept by a sudden gust 
of wind, and glaring fiercely at the door, he opened 
wide his huge mouth, displaying his great slanting 
shovel teeth, and assumed the expression of a gorilla 
preparatory to the utterance of its fearful yell and 
charge to battle. 

‘‘ Come in ! ’’ he commanded, in a voice but a trifie 
above his ordinary tone, yet similar to the roar of a 
lion when angered, “ Come in, I say ! ” and he stamped 


1 68 PEEL EYE AND SNOOZER. 

his feet on the carpet impatiently, struck the arms 
of his chair with his clenched hands, and by way of 
emphasis added a fearful volley of oaths to his com- 
mand. 

In obedience thereto, the latch turned hesitatingly 
in its fastening, the door creaked on its hinges as 
though reluctant to approach that formidable enemy 
— and what wonder, since its face bore many deep 
scars inflicted by his boot heels. 

One, two, four, six inches it swung inward, stopped, 
and a head of busby and matted hair was thrust 
through the opening, and a hideous bloated face Avith 
great blear eyes and gaping tobacco-stained mouth, 
leered at the King of the Sands: “ Did you say ‘come 
in,’ y’r honor,” said a voice, “ or did you tell me to go 
to — .” 

“ I said come in,” thundered Snoozer. “ Ah 1 it is 
you, is it, Peel Eye, I didn’t know you.” And then he 
added, more pleasantly, “ Come in feller, Av’at’s th’ 
news — any, eh? ” 

“Well, I reckon a feAv,” replied Peel Eye, as he 
closed the door, deposited his old limp weather-beaten 
hat on the floor, and put his foot on it (a fashion at the 
Sands in token of entire submission to the authority of 
the great manipulator of elections, and proprietor of 
the “DeAV Drop Inn”). “ Yes, I reckon a few news, y’r 
honor,” he repeated, pulling his scalp lock and nodding 
his head toward Snoozer. “ ’Spect I can tell yez some- 
thing w’at’ll interest yez. Howsomever, I’m tired, y’r 
honor.” 

“ Well, sit down. Peel Eye,” said Snoozer, bright- 
ening up, “sit down and chin it out. W’at’s th' 
rip?” 


PEEL EYE AND SNOOZED. 


169 


“ Well, I 'spect I’ve treed th’ papers th’ fust smell, 
was the confident repl3^ 

“ Ye ’spect ! ^ Spect / ” chimed in Snoozer, impatientl3^ 
“Ye ’sped — eh ? I don’t want no more ‘ ’spectin’ ’ ’bout 
’t. If ye knows anything fur a fact, spit it out, facts is 
w’at I’m arter jes now ? ” 

“Well,” replied Peel Eye, “I can give yez w’at I 
beam an’ seed, an’ if ye can claw out any rale meat from 
th’ kettle o’ bilin’ bones, them things w’at yez calls 
fads, all riglit, an’ I’ll help yez do it all I can ; that’s 
all /can do, y’r honor.” 

“ Well, that’s all right, Peel Eye,” replied Snoozer, 
softening a trifle. “ Blubber out w’at ye hearn an’ 
knows from w’at ye seed. Come now, don’t beat th’ 
bush fur Avords, but let ’em come fast. Idees is Av’at I 
Avants, an’ lively too.” 

“ Jes so,” replied the other, opening his bleared eyes 
Avide, and stoAving away in his catfish mouth half a 
plug of tobacco, which he began cheAving vigorously. 
“Jes so; an’ here am th’ Avhole matter biled down 
solid, I sorter ’spect Sandy Burns aren’t half so dead as 
ye thinks, but is kickin’ around as lively as a young 
cricket somewhar.” 

Michael Snoozer opened Avide his little almond-shaped 
eyes clutched the arms of his chair, partly arose to 
his feet, glared fiercely at the man Avho sat on the 
opposite side of the hearth twirling his thumbs and 
industriously cheAving his quid. 

“ Truth, y’r honor, sure’s y’r born, Sandy is livin’ 
an’ as lively as a hungry bed bug this minute, else 
somebody’s lied t’ me ’mazingly, an’ I can’t see nor 
hear Avuth a chaAV o’ terback.” 

W’at d’ ye take me fur? ” roared Snoozer, angrily. 


170 PEEL EYE AND SNOOZER. 

‘‘ W’at d’ ye take me fur ? I say ! Didn’t I see Sandy 
Burns at the morgue, dead as a salt mackerel ? W’at 
’re ye chinnin’ about? Be ye gettin’ loony ? ” 

‘‘ Ye is mistaken, y’r honor; ’t wasn’t Sandy Burns 
as ye seed at the morgue, ’twas a feller named Mike 
Keary, w’at ye don’t know, but looked jes like Sandy 
would, all bust up th’ way he was. Ye see I got right 
down t’ bed rock, right in th’ center an’ all around th’ 
sides, an’ if y’r honor’ll ’sense plain speakin’ I’ll make 
it all plain t’ yez.” 

‘‘Well, spit it out. Peel Eye,” replied Snoozer, light- 
ing a fresh cigar, “ plain speakin’ is w’at I wants.” 

“ Well, then, t’ begin at th’ fust, I went straight 
from here t’ th’ w’arves, flopped over th’ bridge, an’ 
went skippin’ ’long ’mong th’ gin shops. Jes as I took 
in sail in front of O’Kourk’s ‘Shoo Fly,’ an’ was ’bout 
t’ cast anchor, Lafe Whitcombe, Bottle-nosed Bill, an’ 
th’ two gals, Daisy Phelps an’ Birdie McLaughlin came 
out o’ that port under full sail, flags flyin’ at topmast 
an’ riggin’ dressed in buntin’ — Scram. ‘ Ship ahoy ! ’ 
sez I, ‘ where ye bound ? ’ ‘ Off on a bum,’ sez 

they. ‘ Where away ?’ sez 1. ‘All aroun’ th’ coast,’ 
sez they. ‘ Don’t yez want t’ convoy a treasure ship? ’ 
sez I. ‘You bet,’ sez they. ‘All right,’ sez I, an’ 
away we went afore a spankin’ breeze. We brought up 
fust at ole Kose Gaffney’s, got a room, an’ called fur th’ 
swag. Blazes, how th’ fellers an’ gals did swill it. I 
chucked mine down on th’ floor, tho’ I was ’mazin’ dry, 
but swillin’ warent me objeck jes then, but t’ fill up 
t’other uns an’ git ’em t’ chinnin’. Arter a while, w’en 
th’ swill begun t’ work, sez I, ‘ Fellers an’ gals, I wish 
Sandy Burns was here; he’s a jolly lad, an’ ’ud make it 
right smart lively.’ ‘Who cares for Sandy Burns?’ 


PEEL EYE AND SNOOZER. l 71 

sez Daisy Phelps. ‘ He’s a sneak, an’ I hate him. He 
punched my feller night afore last, an’ th’ poor boy is 
now in bed all bunged up.’ ‘Yes, I seed him this 
mornin’,’ sez Bottle-nosed Bill, ‘over at Black Scul- 
ley’s, chinnin’ to Lize Whale3\ He’s mighty soft on 
that gal since he got away with somebody’s blubber. 
He’s been meller — more’n half seas over these two 
months t’ my knowin’, an’ I’ve got no manner o’ use 
fur him.’ ‘Well, fellers and gals,’ sez I, ‘If that’s 
th’ kind o' fish he’s got to be I don’t want nuthin t’ do 
with him nuther. Let’s have another lick o’ swill an’ 
then I must strike out fur another port. Got biz up 
town.’ So we took a swig all round, ’cept me, w’at 
chucked it on th’ floor, an’ as I riz t’ go. Bottle-nosed 
Bill sez, sez he, ‘ I tell ye fellers an’ gals who was a 
good feller, an’ th’ same was Mike Keary w’at took 
too much o’ th’ red eye an’ laid down on Lake street 
an’ froze t’ death New-Year's eve. He laid up there 
at th’ morgue all New-Year’s day an’ nobody cared a 
straw. He looked awful, face all beat up; bin in a fight 
I ’spect.’ 

“ Then I sailed away an’ left ’em t’ swill, brought up 
at Black Sculley’s, went round ’mong the fellers and 
gals, but couldn’t find Sandy nowhar. Arter a while 
I sidled up t’ Lize Whaley an’ chinned her fur a while 
’bout foolishness an’ sich. Ye see, y’r honor. Lize an’ 
me ha’ allers bin ’ticular friends, an’ th’ gal ’ud do any- 
thing fur me a’most. Well, I got her away by myself 
in a corner, an’ I set up th’ red eye handsomely, an’ 
then sez I to her, sez I, ‘ Lize, d’ye love me ? ’ ‘ Now 

Peel Eye,’ sez she, ‘ye knows I do. W’at d’ye ask 
that for?’ ‘’Cause,’ sez I, ‘I wanted t’ know if I 
could ’pend on ye through thick and thin, bitter an’ 


172 PEEL EYE AND SNOOZED. 

sweet.’ ‘ Ye bet ye can,’ sez she. ‘ Just bet y’r last 
check on ’t,’ an’ then she gave me a dozen busses t’ 
prove it. ‘Well deary,’ sez I (soapin’ her, ye see), 
‘ if ye loves me, an’ I can ’pend on yez, through bitter 
an’ sweet, thick an’ thin, I wants t’ ask ye a question 
’bout suthin’ w’at concerns me an’ our master, Snoozer.’ 
W’en I spoke y’r name, y’r honor, she turned sorter 
white round the gills an’ looked at me right hard a 
minute. Sez I ‘ ole sweetness, y’r sweeter nor Belcher’s 
best sugar; ye draws th’ fellers t’j^e as a leaky molasses 
barrel draws flies; y’r goodern or any angel. Now, I’m 
tryin’ t’ find out where Sandy Burns is, an’ I wants ye 
t’ tell me all ye knows about him. Fact is, darlint (an’ 
then I squeezed her a bit), fact is, Sandy went out t’ 
trap an’ ole duck fur a feller, an’ git some papers w’at 
th’ feller wanted. Well, Sandy did th’ job all right 
but didn’t come t’ time, an’ he’s been gone more’n 
three months now, an’ th’ feller w’at got him t’ do th’ 
biz is get tin’ sheared ’bout th’ papers, so he come t’ 
Snoozer t’ git him t’ hunt Sandy up. Now deary,’ 
sez I, ‘ do ye knows where Sandy has been? ’ an’ I 
squeezed her again. ‘Yes, I knows all about it,’ she 
sez; ‘ he’s been with me all th’ time, an’ has bin awful 
feared Snoozer'd find him. I swore I’d never tell, but 
I can’t keep anything from you, dear Peel Eye. Mike 
Keary, w’at froze t’ death on Lake street New-Year’s 
eve, stole Sandy’s clothes an’ th’ papers too, think in’ 
they war money or suthin’ waluable. Keary got in a 
fight with his boardin’-house man, got kicked out, an’ 
took Sandy’s sack o’ clothes with him, an’ had ’em 
when he laid down t’ die. W’en Sandy hearn o’ th’ 
dead man at th’ morgue, he went there t’ see if it was 
Keary, but he took good care t’ disguise, so that even 


PEEL EYE AND SNOOZER. 


173 


his sweetheart wouldn’t have knowed him. Sure enough 
’twas Keary; an’ then Sandy begin to hunt around t’ 
find out w’at he’d done with th’ sack. He went t’ 
where Keary had been found, but th’ snow had all bin 
shoveled away, an’ so he begin t’ chin people w’at lived 
roun’ there in the alleys. He chinned roun’ all day, 
an’ was ’bout t’ give it up, w’en he thought t’ ask th’ 
boy at th’ coal yard. He give the black imp a shin- 
plaster an’ axed him if anybody had found a sack o’ 
clothes anywhere roun’ there, an’ th’ feller told him 
that ole Skinner’s boy told him that he had found a 
sack full o’ clothes in th’ street Kew-Year’s mornin’.’ 
Well, y’r honor, I bussed th’ gal an’ promised you’d do 
the clever thing by her, an that you’d not go back on 
her, or tell Sandy she’d buzzed on him, an’ I hope 
you’ll see my word made good.” 

While Peel E^^e talked, Snoozer walked the floor 
excitedly. His face, repulsive even in his pleasantest 
humor, was absolutely hideous as the man proceeded 
to unfold the history of Sandy’s treachery, and when 
the story was concluded, Snoozer broke forth in a 
storm of anger truly appalling, thundering forth 
volleys of horrible imprecations, while he shook his 
denched hand at an imaginary foe, and snapped his 
teeth together like a hungry wolf springing upon its 
prey. Peel Eye sat still, but his face gradually became 
white and he trembled perceptibly. His bleared eyes 
lighted up little by little until they gleamed like ser- 
pent’s eyes, and his hand crept stealthily around under 
his tattered coat, and clutched the handle of a Bowie 
knife, which hung in its sheath on his hip. 

Peel E^^e thoroughly knew the desperate human 
beast before him, knew him to be absolutely insane 


174 


PEEL EYE AND SNOOZER. 


when angered, and, while he was conscious of having 
done his whole duty, and consequently not meriting 
reproof — while he knew that Snoozer when calm could 
not but be gratified, and would warmly commend his 
work, he also knew that the temporary maniac was 
liable to vent his rage upon any object, human or inani- 
mate, within his reach, and instinct of self-preservation 
prompted him, unconsciously, to prepare for defense. 
However, to his astonishment and infinite relief, Snoo- 
zer stopped short in the middle of a sentence — stopped, 
and a horrible oath died on his lips, still-born. Stopped, 
smiled, lighted a cigar, and turning around to Peel 
Eye, extended his hand, saying, “ Ye has done well, 
an’ I’ll see ye loses nothin’ by it. Shake hands pard, 
ye’re th’ right stripe, th’ kind o’ feller w’at suits me 
through an’ through. Ye can tell th’ gal that Michael 
Snoozer gives his word that he’ll not go back on her or 
tell Sandy that she buzzed on him. An’ mind ye, Peel 
Eye, if ye ever dare to break faith with th’ gal, ye’ll 
have t’ answer t’ me for ^t. Snoozer has passed his 
word now, an’ he’ll keep it. Tell her, too, that I’ll do 
clever by her if she’ll come t’ th’ Sands, an’ stay with 
us. She shall have money an’ plenty P drink, an’ a 
house t’ live in rent free. Here,” he continued, hand- 
ing the man a bank note, “ this is enough, I reckon, 
but if not. I’ll give ye more — eh ? ” 

“ Plenty, y’r honor,” replied Peel Eye, rising from 
the chair and clutching the money greedily, “ Plenty, 
y’r honor — more than enough for sich a trifle o’ pry in’ 
around. W’en ye wants anything more, just let Peel 
Eye know it, an’ he’ll sarve ye true, faithful an’ 
yarnest.” 


PEEL EYE AND SNOOZED, 


175 


All right,” replied Snoozer, “ let the thing drop 
now, not a word t’ anybody, not even th’ gal. I’ll 
take care of it, good night,” and Peel Eye passed out, 
while Snoozer sat down in his easy chair, and settled 
himself comfortably to smoke, plot and sleep. 


CITAPTEE XIY. 


FOXEY grebe’s FIRST VISIT TO THE PALACE OF THE 
AVENUE.” 

Judge Dudley sat in his library in the “ Palace of the 
Avenue,” earnestly engaged in the examination of 
legal documents. His handsome, intellectual face wore 
a thoughtful, anxious expression, and his quick, nervous 
movements indicated that he was endeavoring to 
unravel some knotty legal snarl by the application of 
facts and logical deductions. He was evidently thor- 
oughly in earnest, deeply interested, and bringing into 
action all the powers of his intellect, education and 
experience. He was marshaling his intellectual forces 
fearlessly against a fortress seemingly impregnable, 
hedged in by a moat wide, deep and bridgeless, while 
from the battlements above, a gaunt skeleton form 
arrayed in defense a host of accomplished ends and 
leered down upon him defiantly. 

Judge Dudley frequently consulted a pocket mem- 
orandum book on the table before him, making entries 
therein with exceeding care, crossing each t and dotting 
each i as he Avent along, and then comparing each entry 
with some document at hand. 

It was early evening, clear and cold, and the great 
city, in her Avhite robes of winter, glittered in the 
silvery moonlight, and the ice-crested Avaves of the 
lake surged, foamed and came thundering in against the 
piers and breakwater. 


76 


FOXEY C RUBE'S VISIT. 


177 


Few were abroad that night, surely none for pleas- 
ure, and those who were forced by circumstances to 
brave the freezing atmosphere, hurried along at their 
utmost speed, as fleeing from some frightful danger. 

As 8 o’clock rang out from the tall spires of the city, 
echoing over the lake and dancing in weird waves of 
sound on its ever tempestuous bosom, telling the hour 
to the ice-field and the wind, a lithe, handsome gentle- 
man (?) went skipping along the avenue, performing 
the “ Kangaroo Droop” and the “ Boston Dip ” to per- 
fection, the intense cold and snow-drift obstructions 
notwithstanding. Pausing a moment before the gate 
of the ‘‘Palace of the Avenue,” he looked up at the 
beautiful building bathed in the clear moonlight, and 
murmured his admiration to the howling wind, for his 
appreciation of the beautiful was ever keen and intense, 
and curved lines and symmetrical forms were always 
pleasing to his eyes. Ko matter what character, the 
form, quality or nature, anything symmetrical pleased 
him, from the graceful outline of a towering, cloud- 
battling monument to the exquisite and delicately 
molded form of beautiful woman. Therefore he paused 
even in the stinging cold atmosphere, and told his 
admiration to Luna and the stars. 

At length, with a shiver, he grasped the latch of the 
iron gate, opened it, sprang up the terrace steps, walked 
briskly along the paved footway, passed up the broad 
stone steps into the vestibule, and rang the door bell. 
His summons was quickly answered ; he gave his card 
to the servant, was ushered into the recention-room 
and was left alone. 

Foxey Grube stood in the center of the room look- 
ing around admiringly at the exquisitely carved and 


1^8 FOXEY GRUBERS VISIT. 

beautifully upholstered furniture ; at the oil paintings 
on the wall, fresco work, statuary and other handsome 
ornamentations and gems of art; stood spellbound, 
enraptured — mute, lost in a labyrinth of pleasant con- 
templations. The moments chased one another along 
the dial swiftly until half an hour had been added to 
the record of his life and a thousand thoughts, good 
and evil, jotted down by the just Eecorderin the great 
book of human account. The harp strings of his soul 
were vibrating under the delicate touch of the beautiful, 
and he floated away on the bright wings of fancy. 
How long he would have remained thus, is a matter of 
extreme uncertainty, had nothing occurred to break the 
spell which bound him, but a slight rustling of gar- 
ments (a sound never misconceived by susceptible and 
highl}^ emotional organizations), and an opening door, 
though noiseless, and the powerful electric influence of 
a charming presence unseen but felt, sent a new hand 
sweeping along the harp strings, keyed to sensitive 
nerves, and sent the warm blood dancing through his 
veins in time to new sweet music. As the needle 
turns to the magnet when brought within its influence, 
so did Foxey Grube to the positive electric force which 
had glided into his presence unannounced and unob- 
served, and he swung around on his heels as the needle 
in the compass turns to the north, standing trim and 
straight as a soldier at ‘‘attention.” 

Singular, how crimson his face suddenly became. 
Strange, that he stepped backward several paces and 
stammered apologies, and yet not so remarkable after 
all, for there, standing before him, was a beautiful 
woman, the most beautiful form and face he had ever 
beheld, a very Cleopatra, 


FOXEY GR USE'S VISIT. 


1/9 


Observing his hesitation and embarrassment, she 
smiled, as only she could smile, so bewitchingly sweet 
as to take the beholder captive at first glance, and 
entangle him in the meshes of a silken net woven by 
the cunning hands of the little love god, smiled and 
said in a tone, modulated and musical, Mr. Grube, I 
infer from the card.” 

“ The same, madam,” he replied confusedly, bowing 
low, ‘‘ but I presume the servant made a mistake and 
delivered my card to the wrong person, I called to see 
Judge Dudley.” 

‘‘ And I appear as his proxy,” she replied, still smil- 
ing, “ pray be seated.” 

A very agreeable substitute,”' he responded, ^‘social- 
ly regarded, but in a business sense I fear you will not 
answer,” 

“ I presume not, if any very knotty questions of law 
are to be considered, as I have never sought to fathom 
the deep mysteries of the profession. Father is 
engaged at present, and sent word by the servant that 
he would be at leisure and could see you in the course 
of an hour, and, at father’s request, I appear to enter- 
tain you,” she replied, archly. 

“ The courtesy is appreciated, I beg to assure you,” 
he replied, warmly. “ It is rather dull to wait in such 
profound stillness, listening to the moaning wind with- 
out, and for approaching footsteps. You tread lightly, 
Miss Dudley, I did not hear you enter, and yet, I felt 
your presence and turned to find you here.” 

“ Yes, when a child, they called me Kittie, because 
I walked so lightly, and, it appears, that a few addi- 
tional years and increase of stature makes but little 
difference in that respect, as I still walk almost noise- 


i8o 


FOXEY GRUBE'S VISIT. 


lessly,” she replied, coquettishly. “As I entered, you 
appeared to be very deeply interested in that portrait, 
(pointing to one on the wall) I presume you have 
discovered in me the original?” 

‘•Yes,” he replied, musingly, glancing up at the 
portrait, “ I have made that discovery since I have had 
an opportunity to compare, and yet, it is to the orig- 
inal as sand to gold — it does not do you justice, Miss 
Dudley. Perhaps, it is as perfect as any portrait 
could be, but there is a poetry and grace of motion, a 
subtle, charming influence in the living, breathing, 
thinking original, which the pencil of the artist can not 
copy.” 

And so the moments, golden winged, jewel-crowned, 
love inspired, flitted, srailingW by, one by one, toying 
with heart strings, tingling sensitive nerves, and plac- 
ing sugar plums of compliment and flattery between 
willing lips, to be breathed forth as melted, into will- 
ing ears. The hour, and even an additional quarter, 
had been jotted down by the sharp-sighted, sensitive- 
eared, grim Recorder, and each petty falsehood had been 
placed just there in letters of black, each truth just 
there in letters of light, and the pen was poised to 
strike a balance. 

Foxey Grube had become so deeply enamored that 
time was not considered, for he was thrilled and enrapt- 
ured by the music of a sweet, human voice. 

Ah, woman ! woman! thou art a charming fraud, a 
delightful, living, breathing false pretense, and yet, 
thou art as true as heaven and as real as life. Thou 
art a maze of bewildering contradictions, a wonderful 
combination of inconsistencies. Weak, yet str^^ng; 
corrupt, yet pure; faithful, yet fickle; proud, yet 


FOXEY GRUBE’S P^ISIT. l8l 

humble; vain, yet modest; scornful, yet loving— thy 
ways, like those of the Almighty, are past finding 
out. Thou art a riddle man can not undo, and so, he 
can only cross himself and bless thee, and thank God 
that thou art human. 

Their conversation had been vivacious and interest- 
ing. Poetry, music, fashionable gossip seasoned with 
flattery and tinctured with sarcasm and wit, Avere the 
subjects discussed, and the grim Kccorder scored a 
line and struck the balance as a rap came on the door. 
The servant announced that Judge Dudley would 
receive Mr. Grube in the library, and the latter reluct- 
antly followed the messenger, bowing very gracefully 
to Miss Dudley as he left the room, and trying very 
hard, but in vain, to say something pretty, something 
she would remember and ponder over in the sacred 
seclusion of her boudoir. 

Singular it is, but true, that Avhen one most desires 
to say something Avise or pleasant, it is quite impossible, 
yet for some reason Avhich she could not clearly define. 
Miss Dudley Avas pleased Avith his last Avords, and 
pleased Avith him — not knoAving his real character — 
and Avas elated by the conquest she had made. She 
could plainly perceive that he Avas deeply interested in 
her, and as he Avas of polished manners, highly edu- 
cated and of refined tastes, she had become quite inter- 
ested in him. She went from the reception room to 
her boudoir, assumed an en neglige attire, sat doAvn in 
the Avillow rocker before a blazing coal grate, and, 
gazing dreamily into the Areas it curled and flashed up 
the chimney, the peculiar smile Avhich took captiA^e all 
hearts played among the dimples on her lov^ely face, 
and a soft dreamy expression came into her eyes. 


i 82 


FOXEY G RUBE'S VISIT. 


As she sat there before the cheerful fire, in the 
sacred seclusion of her boudoir, her lovely form wrapped 
in a loose, thin mantle, and her long, silken, jet 
black hair floating down over her shoulders, she was, 
if possible, more bewitchingly beautiful than when 
arrayed in her most dashing toilet. She smiled contin- 
ually, swayed to and fro in the easy rocker and floated 
away on the bright wings of fancy. And so the 
moments glided on while she pondered and dreamed, 
and a golden hour had joined its fellows in the treasury 
of the eternal. 

Finally she sat still, passed her hand over her face 
to shade her eyes from the fire-light, heaved a little 
sigh, not plaintive nor sorrow-burdened, but a sigh of 
relief, turned her head aside, rocked vigorously a 
moment, and then burst forth in a ripple of laughter. 
Then she arose, went to her secretary, opened it, drew 
forth writing material, sat down and said mischievously: 
“I’ll do it; write him a valentine. He’ll never know 
the author, and what a surprise it will be to him. I’ll 
play the rejected sweetheart just to confuse him. How 
my muse — sweet muse — tune your harp. Ah, the 
inspiration comes,” and she began to write : 

“TO EDWARD GRUBE, 

FROM 

HIS VALENTINE. 

‘ ‘ As turtle dove whose mate is dead 

Doth sit and mourn on withered tree. 

So from my heart sweet hope hath fled, 

For thou hast turned away from me — 

Yet, thou art mine, and only mine, 

And I thy faithful valentine. 


FOXEY GRUBE'S VISIT. 183 

“As wounded fawn sinks down to die, 

A victim of the archer’s skill, 

So doth my spirit fainting lie, 

A victim to thy stubborn will„ 

Still, I am thine, and thou art mine. 

My wayward, scornful valentine. 

“ Ah, could St thou know the joy, the bliss, 

That lurks within the holy kiss 
Of woman pure, 

Thou’dst come and claim this loving heart. 

And heal its wound by Cupid’s dart 
With lover’s cure. 

Say, thou art mine, and I am thine, 

And each the other’s valentine.” 

Ah, that will do,” she said, laughingly. “ I fanc}^ 
it is not very bad machine poetry ; however. I’ll not 
venture to sit in judgment on my own composition. 
What gushing sentiment ! Ah, me, he will scarcely 
survive it, I fear.” And she laughed with the gleeful 
innocence of a child with a new toy. Then she folded 
the epistle, put it into a rose-tinted, delicately -perfumed 
envelope, and addressed it to “ Edward Grube, Ad- 
dressed.” An hour later silence brooded in that sacred 
apartment, and fair Kate Dudley in spirit wandered 
in beautiful dreamland. 

As Foxey Grube entered the library. Judge Dudley 
was engaged in arranging papers in his desk, but arose 
and greeted the visitor kindly, invited him to be seated, 
apologized for the delay, and then paused, evidently 
for Grube to explain the object of his visit. 

“I have been informed,” said Grube, ‘‘that you 
are counsel for defendants in the case of Skinner 
against the heirs of Mark Barry, is it true ? ” 

“ Yes, I have undertaken, in their behalf, the man- 
agement of the case.” 


184 


FOXEY GRUBE'S VISIT. 


“ As I understand it, Skinner seeks to establish his 
title by deeds in fee simple and warranty from Mark 
Barry to certain valuable property in this city.” 

‘‘ Precisely.” 

“ And the defense claims that the conveyances are 
fraudulent, that is, that the signature thereto is not 
that of Mark Barr}^ — having been forged by some per- 
son unknown, and therefore that the property must 
revert in title absolute to the heirs at law.” 

“ Before I answer auy more questions, I shall require 
you to answer one for me,” replied Judge Dudley, col- 
oring slightly. You seem to be much interested in 
the case, and I wish to know the object of your inter- 
rogations?” 

“I am glad to know,” replied Grube, “that you 
have the management of the defense. Judge Dudle}'', 
because I am satisfied that you will be able to defeat 
the evil designs of a bold, bad man, and bring him to 
justice. Yes, I do take a deep interest in the case, and 
for several very good reasons. I hate Ealph Skinner, 
because he ruined my father financially, and left me a 
homeless, friendless, penniless orphan. I hate him, 
because whatever of evil there is in me has been nursed 
and fostered by him, that I might be a willing tool in 
his wicked hands. I hate him, because he drove forth, 
to the terrible temptations of want, his own sister, a 
fair sweet girl — drove her forth upon the streets of a 
great city, to sin or death, and the same night. Judge 
Dudley, the poor girl rushed to death, and found 
peace and rest in the lake. And now the villain beats, 
freezes and starves her child, and compels the boy to 
go about the alleys and sewers gathering rags and 
paper. Now I presume. Judge Dudley, you will be 


FOXEY G RUBE'S VISIT, 185 

able to understand why I am so deeply interested in 
the case/’ 

“Yes, I understand now — but tell me, has the child 
no relative other than Skinner ? ” 

‘‘Only one, I believe — a Mr. Cassell, a first cousin, 
who, though an honorable, intellectual young man, is 
poor and homeless. He never goes near Skinner, for 
there exists a bitter hatred between them. However, 
Mr. Cassell does all he can, secretly, to better the child’s 
condition, but it is very little he can do.” 

“ And Skinner starves and abuses the child ? ” 

“Most heartlessly.” 

“ I will make it a point to look into the matter, and 
if I find your statement correct, of which I have no 
doubt, the child shall be taken from him immediately 
and properly cared for.” 

“ Thank you, you will find my statements true in 
every particular. And now, in reference to the case of 
Skinner against the heirs of Mark Barrj^, I can give 
information that will insure Skinner’s defeat. You are 
perfectly correct about the deeds having been forged, 
and I say of my own knowledge that Skinner forged 
Mark Barry’s name to them and affixed the notary’s 
seal. I saw him do it.” 

An hour later Foxey Grube passed out of the ves- 
tibule and down the broad stone steps of the “ Palace 
of the Avenue,” and hurried away toward his lodging- 
house. He had given Judge Dudley a full history of 
the forged deeds, and as he hurried along through the 
frosty night his spirits were buoyant, and he felt that 
a great load had been suddenly lifted from his heart. 
“ The old scoundrel will find more than his equal in 


FOXEY GRUBERS VISIT. 


1 86 

Judge Dudley,” he said, “and I shall experience the 
pleasure of seeing him view the beauties of nature 
and contemplate the happiness of freedom from behind 
iron bars ere long, or there is no God and no justice 
in the land.” 


CHAPTEE XY. 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 

The day bad been quite warm for the season, but a 
peculiar chilliness pervaded the atmosphere, rendering 
warm wrappings and furs quite necessary to comfort. 
Soft balmy breezes floated up from the south, the sky 
was clear and the sun smiled down on the snow-man- 
tled city, ice-locked river, wave-battling lighthouse 
and harbor piers far out in the lake. As the day 
advanced, driving shadows eastward, the increasing 
warmth of sunshine and the soft south wind visibly 
effected the snow on housetops and along the 
streets, until miniature cataracts poured from water- 
spouts, drenching pavements, and street gutters became 
tiny rivers. Sewers complained dolefully, caught and 
held in their throats quantities of floating debris, while 
torrents, rushing on from every quarter, seeking an out- 
let to the lake, suddenly became confused, even within 
the sewer’s mouth, rushed back and whirled around in 
cross currents and eddies, until each street-crossing was 
flooded, giving the fair daughters of the woman whose 
bridal robe was of green fig leaves an opportunity to 
display their trim little feet. 

After sunset, heavy banks of leaden clouds arose from 
the lake, and, as night came sweeping on and sent forth 
her shadows one by one to drive back the lingering 
twilight, a dense fog floated slowly up from the south 
and enveloped the city in dense darkness. 

187 


i88 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 


On that gloomy night, as small stores and shopiL were 
being closed and the saloons were becoming lively, a 
short, broad man, wrapped in a heavy fur-lined cloak, 
extending far below his knees, walked slowly along 
Lake street, eastward. The street lamps flickered 
feebly, penetrating the fog but a few feet around, leav- 
ing a large portion of the street in pitchy darkness, 
and, consequently, people, as they hurried along, and 
particularly this large man, were compelled to pick 
their way very carefully to avoid falling down cellar- 
ways or stumbling over dry-goods boxes carelessly left 
on the pavement. 

Frequently he paused and glanced up at the tall 
buildings, as though looking for a number, all the while 
whispering and mumbling broken, disjointed sentences, 
such as, “Well, that lets me out. They’ve put up so 
many new buildings here that, blast me eyes, if I aren’t 
lost right on me old stamping ground. Ah, there it 
is ! ” he exclaimed, in a tone of satisfaction, as he came 
within the light of a street lamp, and plunged out into 
the street, wading through the slush to the opposite 
side. “Yes, this the place, up these stairs,” and 
he groped along the dark hall and began the ascent 
— up! up — up! flight after flight, until he puffed 
like a porpoise — up again, and he began muttering 
curses on any man who would live among the clouds, 
when everybody knew that if he had his just dues 
he would at that moment be an inhabitant of a 
lower region, sporting in blue blazes and breathing sul- 
phurous gas. 

However, the fat man looking up, as he ascended 
the last flight of stairs, observed a dim spot of light 
shining on the ’vvall, and, as he reached the upper 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 189 

landing, observed also that it came through a key-hole 
in a door. Approaching, he gave a loud rap and 
heard a shrill, tremulous voice, inquiring : 

‘‘ Who is there % ” 

Again the fat man pounded on the door, louder than at 
first, and muttered, ‘‘Come an’ see, ye blamed ole fool.” 

Instantly there were within the room sounds as of 
quick movements of some one hurrying around, the 
peculiar flap of slippered feet on a bare floor, and 
again came the shrill inquiry from within: “Who’s 
there, I say?” 

“ Come an’ see,” thundered the fat man in the hall. 
“ Come an’ open the door, 3^0 blamed ole fool, I wont 
bite.” 

Ealph Skinner slowly arose from behind the chair 
of state where he had retreated, groveling down even 
with his face to the floor, staggered tremblingly to his 
feet, and on tip toe advanced, and grasping the knob 
in one hand, the key with the other, hesitated, made 
several movements as though about to unlock the 
door, but changed his mind, and finally putting his 
mouth to the key-hole again, called out the inquiry: 
“ Who are 3^011 ? What do you want ? ” 

“ I’m neither a burglar nor a policeman. Ye needn’t 
be feared t’ let me in, ole vinegar, as I’m a gent w’ats 
got biz t’ ’tend to with ye,” was the reply. 

Those reassuring words seemed to quiet Skinner’s 
fears a trifle, and yet he hesitated, and stood with 
knees knocking together, grasping the knob convul- 
sively, and swaying to and fro like a drunken man. 
Finall3q with a spasmodic effort, he turned the key in 
the lock, opened the door, and as the fat man entered, 
sprang backward, exclaiming, “ Snoozer ! ” 


190 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 


“ Kerect,’’ replied that individual, as he followed the 
crouching, shrinking form of Ralph Skinner back to 
that heat-proof stove. “Perfectly kerect, ole yaller 
jacket, it’s Snoozer and no mistake. He’s come t’ 
have a little chinnin’ with ye — ’bout matters an’ things 
in gineral an’ some things in ’ticular.” Glancing 
around the room and seeing only Skinner’s chair of 
state, he added, with a grin, “ Have a seat, Mr. 
Snoozer,” and sat down on the table swinging his legs 
back and forth like a school- boy. 

“ Well,” said Skinner, in a winning, tremulous tone, 
as he sank down in his chair, “Well, Mr. Snoozer, 
what can I do for you? ” 

“ Hitch !” said Snoozer, snuffing and elevating his eye- 
brows, “ hitch ! ” and his mule-like head drooped side 
wise while the corners of his mouth crept back toward 
his ears; “hitch,” and the India-rubber-like wrinkles on 
his forehead began to ripple over its gnarled and knotted 
surface, while his long ears actually flapped back and 
forth as his little negro eyes started from their 
almond-shaped sockets, and his glance ran rapidly up 
the wall to the ceiling, where they seemed to fasten 
to a knot on a beam. 

“ Hitch ! ” he repeated, dolefully, “ Hitch ! chu !-chu 
— a-o-rechio-ah ! hitch !-ah !-chow ! chow ! chow ! ” 

He paused a moment, heaved a doleful sigh, wagged 
his head from side to side, while tears gushed from his 
eyes and ran down his face. Then he lowered his chin 
and looked toward Skinner, but, in the dim firefly 
light of the sputtering, complaining tallow dip, utterly 
failed to catch even a faint outline of his form. 

“ Ha-ah-oh-hitch 1 ” he repeated, wiping his face 
with the back of his hand, “ Hitch ! ” 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. I9I 

“ For heaven’s sake, don’t, Mr. Snoozer,” pleaded 
Skinner, rising from his chair, glancing toward the 
door and then back over his shoulder toward the win- 
dow. “ For heaven’s sake, don’t, it is horrible.” 

“ I — I can’t — hitch ! — I say — I — hitch ! ah-o-rechio- 
ah-hitch ! ah-chow ! chow! chow!” and SnoozeFs 
voice rang out in thunder tones, peal on peal along the 
beams and rafters of the roof, and came back in wild 
echoes from the depths of the great attic. 

Again Snoozer straightened up, rubbed his watery 
eyes with his knuckles, drawing the palms of his hands 
down over his cheeks to wipe off the tears, cast a dole- 
ful look toward where he thought Skinner ought to be, 
and blubbered out in a thick voice, “ I was ’bout t’ say 
tha — ” Again, his nostrils expanded, disclosing two 
enormous holes running back into his head, and h4 
began snuffing spasmodically, chopping out between 
paroxysms, ‘‘ I — can’t — blast — eyes — cuss — catch — ah!” 
and then came an awful pause. There was a marshal- 
ing of forces for the aAvful struggle, during which his 
head wagged back and forth and swung around until it 
leaned over on his right shoulder, and his e3^es again 
sought, found, and became fixed in a stony stare to 
the knot on the beam of the roof. Then again his 
eyes started from their sockets, and, raising his right 
hand above his head, his huge mouth sprang open, dis- 
closing the two rows of long slanting shovel teeth, and 
he hissed forth, “Hitch! I-e-hitch ! 0-oo-hotch! 
Ah-chow ! chow ! chow ! ” 

“Is that all, Mr. Snoozer,” inquired Skinner, 
beseechingly, “ Is there any more, Mr. Snoozer, if there 
is, can’t you, you put it off until you get out in the 
street ? ” 


192 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 


‘‘Allers fo-foo-four,” sputtered Snoozer, “ loo-l- 
lookout, he-here- co-comes-l’-t’otber one-liitcli !’’ 

Lord save us,” moaned Skinner, thrusting his fin- 
gers into his ears and cowering down in his chair, 
“ Merciful heaven defen — ” 

Hitch ! ” howled Snoozer, pressing both hands 
against his sides, and rocking to and fro on his perch, 
swinging his legs violently. Oh — hitch ! d — m — me, 
hitch ! ah ! — cuss th’ — hitch ! — ah — luck. Hitch — o — 
rechio — ah — chow ! chow ! chow ! his — c — pop ! um ! ” 

“ That’s all, Skinner,” moaned Snoozer, “ but Lord 
blazes it’s orful. Why man, it jist creeps all o’er a fel- 
ler like fleas, makes his hair snap like whip crackers, 
an’ his toe nails strike fire. Blazes, but it tore th’ 
bottoms o’ me socks all t’ smash, an started th’ soles 
o’ me boots from th’ uppers. Did ye ever sneeze, 
Skinner?” 

‘A^es,” replied the living mummy. “Yes, I sneeze 
very often, particularly when coal is dear and we can’t 
afford to keep much fire, but then not in your way, 
only a little low ‘ hiss — c — hotch ! ’ in a whisper, and 
only once.” 

“ That goes t’ prove,” retorted Snoozer, disgustedly, 
“ how blamed stingy ye ar’, afraid t’ spend y’r nat’ral 
forces, an’ miserly wi’ e’en y’r voice. W’en ye dies, 
an’ that in the course o’ natur’ can’t be very far off, 
d’ ye ’spect to carry y’r houses, town lots, an’ shin- 
plasters wi’ ye ? If ye does ye’ll be durned badly disap- 
pinted, I’m thinkin.’ Why, Skinner, they’ll jest chuck 
ye in a pine box, dump ye into a hole in th’ ground, 
cover ye up wi’ mean stickey yaller clay, stick a pine 
board in th’ heap an’ leave ye t’ rot an’ fatten th’ 
worms.” Pausing a moment, he looked down through 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 


193 


the phosphorescent glimmering light of the tallow dip, 
on the ghastly upturned face and skeleton-like form of 
Ilalph Skinner, and then his huge mouth opened in a 
horrible grin. 'No, I’m a trifle off on that, ole leather- 
hide,” he added, flapping his lips together like a horse 
chewing its bit. ‘‘ Th’ worms couldn’t git fat on ye, 
cause there’s nothin’ t’ eat ’cept cords an’ dry leather, 
but ye’ll spile all th’ same an’ stimulate th’ wegitation 
around yez, as long as ye last. Howsomever that aren’t 
th’ biz I come t’ talk about ; an’ I’ll jest spit it out an’ 
be done wi’ it. W’at did ye do wi’ them sack o’ close 
an’ papers w’at yer boy found jes across th’ street there 
]S^ew-Year mornin’?” 

Skinner’s white face grew whiter, and he sat still 
and mute, looking up at Snoozer. His eyes were 
glassy — a film like that of death seemed to creep over 
them sweeping away all expression, and the muscles of 
his face twitched horribly while each feature came 
gradually out from its fellows, each a ghastly self- 
accuser. The jugular veins of his neck puffed out until 
they seemed on the point of bursting, and they throbbed 
violently until Snoozer might have counted the very 
pulsations of his heart. He scarcely breathed; his 
very life seemed to have fled when Snoozer’s startling 
question with all its dread import sounded in his ears, 
and he was speechless with terror and amazement. 

Snoozer’s quick, unerring brute instinct grasped and 
fathomed, instantaneously, thesecret of Skinner’s trepi- 
dation and terror. He perceived that Peel Eye’s report 
was true in every particular, and determined to wring 
from Skinner, either by intimidation or actual violence, 
the information he sought. As he sat there, looking 
down on the shriveled, ghastly face of the wretched, 


194 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 


wicked old man, a new idea gradually dawned upon 
him, and in detail he went from point to point, solv- 
ing a knotty problem. He was learning to reason — 
putting this and that together, and dovetailing facts 
into probabilities, until a symmetrical w^hole loomed 
up before him — a case clear and positive, and he deter- 
mined to use his knowledge as a lever to press the 
truth from the lips of the evil old man, or to crush out 
his life at the bar of justice. His knowledge he pro- 
j)osed to utilize to his own advantage, and solely for 
personal gain. He possessed no sympathy in common 
with human kind, no wish to bring an evil-doer to 
justice simply for the sake of righting wrong ; he was 
utterly dead to all sentiment, and whatever he might 
do would be influenced wholly by selflsh and merce- 
nary motives. He revolved the subject in his mind, 
catching up thread by thread and grain by grain, until 
finally the alternative was reached, and his resolution 
was instantly formed. 

Eeceiving no reply to his question, Snoozer smiled, 
wagged his head insolently, and said : “I ’spect ye 
didn’t hear me, Skinner — I ’spect ye didn’t hear me, 
eh? So I’ll put th’ question again : 

W^at have ye done wV iJi sack w'at y r hoy found 
across tK way New- Year mornirCf ” 

Still Skinner was silent, and his glance sought the 
floor, and he cowered down in his chair, shiveringly, as 
though suffering from cold. Down, down he sank, 
lower and lower, until he seemed to have doubled into 
himself like a telescope, utterly crushed under an enor- 
mous weight. Snoozer remained sitting on the table, 
swinging his legs back and forth, seemingly forgetting 
his own question. He toyed with the lapel of his 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 1 95 

great coat, lighted a cigar, and sat smoking content- 
edly, amusing himself with a pen-handle just as a boy 
would play, picking the dirt from the cracks of the 
table and knocking the letter signs from the burning 
wick of the tallow dip. 

Skinner and Snoozer’s voice could have been 
distinctly heard the distance of a square, while he 
brought down his sledge-hammer fist on the table, 
making the old bottle holding the tallow dip leap 
upward and dance around, sputtering its surprise. 
Then came silence again, creeping, brooding, awful 
silence, while Skinner snored as in deep slumber, and 
Snoozer imagined he could hear the very pulsations of 
the miser’s heart. 

“ Skinner! ” and the miserable man lengthened him- 
self in his chair, coming up like a cork thrust under 
water and suddenly set free, sprang to his feet, and 
with chattering teeth and quivering form, exclaimed 
in a husky, tremulous whisper, a very wail of terror, 
‘‘ For God’s sake, Snoozer, don’t ! ” 

Don’t ? Don’t w’at ? ” 

‘‘ Don’t speak so loud, you startle me so, I~I am so 
nervous, I — I can’t bear such loud talking, you will 
alarm people on the street and bring the police up here. 
I — I wouldn’t have them come for anything — they 
look so vicious, so — so threatening.” 

“Jes so,” replied Snoozer, chuckling and grinning 
viciously, jes so, y’re afeard o’ th’ perliece. Eh ? I’ve 
seen fellers i’ th’ same fix afore now, an’ it’s mighty 
suggestive o’ guilt. I don’t know nothin’ ’bout it from 
experience, cause I keeps me fiy trap shut an’ covers up 
me tracks so th’ old un couldn’t find ’em if he’d try 
ever so hard. But th’y tell me that it kinder makes a 


196 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 


feller feel all over in spots, like as if somebody was 
chuckin’ pounded ice on y’r bare body, ye feels like a 
feller w’en his back itches, an’ w’en he begins t’ 
scratch, he diskivers that th’ itchin’ spot has skipped 
off t’ some other place, an w’en he tries t’ corner itthar, 
it won’t corner worth a cent, an’ so he chases it around 
o’er his body till he itches all over, an’ scratchin’ don’t 
do any good, whatsomever, so he jist settles himself 
an’ cusses everything black an’ blue an’ t’ all durnation. 
It’s orful, I know, fur I’ve itched that way meself. 
It’s equal t’ a touch o’ th’ jim-jams. If ye feels that 
a-way about th’ perliece, an’ I guess ye does, by the way 
ye looks, I can give ye an unfailin’ remedy fur th’ dis- 
ease. It’s this, salt y’r intentions wi’ goodness, so 
they’ll keep, pepper y’r acts wi’ honesty so they won’t 
go back on ye an git ye into trouble, an’ ye’ll skim 
along as smooth as a man in a balloon on a clear, mild 
day, an’ th’ perliece won’t look so wicious an’ threaten- 
in’ ; that’s my remedy, Skinner, tho’ I ’spect I wouldn’t 
take it myself. Howsomever, talk’s cheap, ye know. 
But sit down, man, an’ act like a human; quit y’r 
shakin’ an’ quakin’ — an breathin’ so hard, an’ answer 
me question square an’ straight. Wat did ye do wV 
W papers ye found in thi sack f ” 

“ What papers, what sack % ” whined Skinner. You 
talk in riddles, explain yourself, Mr. Snoozer.” 

“ Well, if explains w’at ye wants, I can do ’t in a few 
words an’ t’ th’ pint. A jolly ole cub got on a steamer 
at Buffaler, t’ come here, not very long ago, an’ w’en 
half way over, he concluded, just fur a joke, t’ take a 
swim in th’ lake all by himself, so he got inter th’ water 
kersplash ! leavin’ his carpet-sack wi’ another feller who 
helped him overboard. Well, arter he’d bin in th’ 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 


197 


water a while, th’ ole fool took a notion that there was 
somethin’ werry attractive on th’ bottom, an’ so went 
down t’ see about ’t. Well, th’ steamer didn’t wait t’ 
find out w’at kind o’ luck he had, an’ as nothin’s bin 
hearn of him since, it’s s’posed that he’s down on th’ 
bottom there yit, chasin’ round arter mermaids. Well, 
t’ bite a long story off afore it gits tedious, th’ feller 
w’at he left his carpet-sack with, didn’t think it worth 
while t’ hunt up th’ ole feller’s relations, an’ so, arter 
cavoratin around more’n three months, th’ papers w’at 
was in th’ carpet-sack, got into a sailor’s clothes’ bag, 
an’ th’ owner o’ th’ bag went t’ sleep New-Year eve by 
th’ wall over there, an’ didn’t wake up i’ th’ mornin’. 
They had him layin’ at th’ morgue, an’ then chucked 
him in th’ ground. Well, th’ pint is, y’rboy found th’ 
sack arle}^ New- Year mornin’ an’ brought it t’ you, an’ 
now I wants t’ know w’at ye done wi’ th’ papers.” 

Skinner had listened in breathless silence, the muscles 
of his face twitching painfully, indicating the soul tort- 
ure which Snoozer’s words inflicted. He sat with 
averted face looking steadily into the clogged-up mouth 
of the complaining stove, and rubbed his thin bony 
hands together. When Snoozer had finished his revela- 
tion and again propounded the dreaded question, he 
replied in a hollow tone, “You still talk in riddles 
Snoozer, and are laboring under a grave mistake.” 

“ Wait a bit before you commit y’rself too much, old 
joker. I know ye’ve a sly way o’ funnin’, but then 
I’m in yearnest, an’ I’d rather ye’d toe th’ mark square 
an towonst,” replied Snoozer, as he drew from his 
pocket a newspaper. “ Now here ’s a regular stunner 
for ye t’ consider, a rale knock-down argument, in favor 
of my ’pinion that ye knows whar th’ papers are, an’ 


198 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 


that ye’ve bin makin’ use o’ ’em t’ y’r adv^antage. 
Now here,” he continued, opening the newspaper and 
pointing to an article. “Now that says a good deal 
about ye. It says that ye’ve lately come into posses- 
sion of th’ whole Mark Barry property, by some hook 
or crook, an’ I know it is by crooked crook, I does. 
Now, I’m goin’ t’ talk plain t’ ye, Skinner, and then if 
ye don’t answer me question straight. I’ll make th’ 
world so hot for ye that ye’ll hunt t’other place t’ get 
cooled off. Now here’s w’at I knows : Y’r boy found 
that bag, an ye found in it some deeds, mortgages and 
sich. Now thinks ye. I’ll make a strike. Mark Barry 
is dead, and a dead man can’t peach on a feller, so I’ll 
fix things up this a- way ; I’ll jist make out some deeds 
an’ sign Mark Barry’s name t’ ’em, an’ swear he done it 
himself jist afore he played th’ joke on th’ fellers on 
th’ steamer. I can sign his name to a dot, an’ nobody’ll 
know but he done it sure enough ; an’ so I’ll gobble 
up th’ whole pot wi’ only a lot o’ duces in me hand — 
an’ so ye done it. Now w’at have ye got to say ? out 
wi’ ’t an’ tell th’ whole truth, or I’ll have ye behind 
iron bars afore morn in’, an’ Michael Snoozer never goes 
back on his word.” 

“ It is true — all true,” moaned the wretched old man, 
cowering down in his chair and rocking his body to and 
fro. “It is true, Snoozer, all you have said is true.” 

“ Well, now man, now ye’re talkin’ sense. Look up 
now an’ be a man, ye’re all right, I tell ye. Snoozer’s 
not th’ man t’ jump on a feller w’en he’s down, an’ 
he never gouges or bites. Snoozer’s a square shoulder 
hitter, a reg’lar stand-up-an’ -knock-downer, w’at’ll 
give a helpin’ hand t’ a pal in distress. Now look-a- 
here ; I’ll let ye off mighty easy, I want one o’ them 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 1 99 

papers only. T’others ye can keep an’ makes pipe- 
lighters out o’ ’em if ye likes. There was a will 
’mong them papers and I wants it. The will o’ Mark 
Barry in favor o’ Mrs. Worsham and her daughter. It 
locks th’ property ’gainst a feller w’at’ll give big money 
to’ have it destroyed, an’ I must have it — that’s w’at I 
come for. Give me that will, Skinner, an’ I’ll let ye 
off an’ I’ll keep mum ’bout w’at I knows.” 

During the first part of Snoozer’s remarks, Skinner’s 
face underwent a marvelous change ; the dead, ashey- 
white color became, as usual, light saffron, and the deep 
wrinkles found their proper places and laid still. His 
eyes assumed their usual crafty, cunning expression, and 
his thin, shriveled lips found repose. In a twinkling he 
became thoroughly himself again, and he arose to his 
feet and stood firm and upright, looking steadily into 
Snoozer’s face. But as that individual proceeded, and 
spoke of the will, a troubled expression came on Skin- 
ner’s face, and he sat down in his chair and began to 
poke the fire. He was silent a few moments, bending 
over the stove, and when he straightened up, his face 
bore no traces of apprehension. He even smiled, grimly, 
it is true, but nevertheless smiled, until the wrinkles 
again rippled over the surface of his face, became 
tangled together, and utterly confused. 

‘•Listen, Snoozer,” he said, earnestly, “listen, for I 
shall be strictly truthful. I have no desire now to 
deceive you in the least, and besides, I fully realize that 
I am in your power and that it would be madness to 
further oppose you. I swear that I did not find any 
will in the sack, have never seen it and know nothing 
of it. I think I know who the party is that wants 
the will destroyed, and if so, I am willing to make 


200 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 


such arraugements as will be perfectly satisfactory to 
him.” 

Observing that Snoozer was about to speak, Skinner 
added, quickly, “ wait until I am through, please. I 
have had my deeds recorded, and that can not be 
undone ; but if I succeed in firmly establishing my title, 
I will pay Charles Barry the value of one-half the 
property, and I will give you five thousand dollars. 
Come now,” he added, exultingly, “ is not that fair and 
generous enough ? what do you say, is it a bargain ? ” 
He was in high glee, for a mountain’s w^eight of appre- 
hension had been lifted from bis mind, and his spirits 
arose accordingly. ‘‘ What do you say, my dear Mr. 
Snoozer?” he repeated, playfully punching that indi- 
vidual in the side with his thumb, while he chuckled, 
simpered and almost danced. 

“ That’s a whack,” responded Snoozer, excitedly, 
grasping Skinners hand and squeezing it until the 
bones fairly cracked in his vice-like grip, causing him 
to writhe in agony, and bringing a faint flush to his 
saffron-colored face, “that’s a whack, signed, sealed 
and delivered, rale quail on toast, an’ I’ll answer in 
Barry’s name an’ my own now.” Then to Skinner’s 
infinite relief he released his hand, rubbed his retreat- 
ing forehead a moment, and added, “ But, Skinner, 
I'm orful hard up just now, an’ if ye could help a 
feller t’ a few hundred, it would be a rale accommoda- 
tion.” 

“Well, how little can you get along with,” inquired 
Skinner, dubiously. “ Don’t be hard on me now, for 
I'm terribly pushed — run to death almost every day to 
make ends meet.” 

“ Hump,” replied Snoozer, reflectively, “ hump ! 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 


201 


Well, Skinner, say five hundred; I can get along with 
that for the present, and that’s moderate enough, I’m 
sure, give me your check for five hundred, an’ I’ll not 
bother ye ’till ye win th’ stake.” 

Skinner stood a moment, wringing his hands, while 
an agonizing expression swept over his face, and then, 
without another word, he went to his iron-bound chest, 
took out his check-book, wrote a check for five 
hundred dollars, and, with a regretful sigh, handed it 
to Snoozer. 

That individual’s face wore an expression of intense 
satisfaction as he received the bank order, and he was 
profuse in his manifestations of pleasure. “ This is all 
right, Skinner,” he said, as he passed through the 
doorway into the pitchy darkness of the great hall. 
“This is all right, and you can swear that Snoozer will 
stick by ye as long as there’s hair on his head or a drop 
o’ blood in me body. Me name is Snoozer, Skinner — 
Snoozer, Michael Snoozer.^ an’ I never goes back on me 
word. Good night, ole pard, an’ say — don’t lose any 
sleep t’ night, fur ’t won’t do no good. Ye mount as 
well take it kinder easy likes, jes’ as tho’ ye ’spected 
it all th’ while, fur as I said in th’ song I made up : 

“ It am better t’ grin than be cussin', 

It am better t’ siDg than t’ cry, -> 

It am better not t’ be fussin’ 

Wi’ luck as he passes ye by — 

Ge’in’ only the bad, 

Le’in’ only th’ sad. 

**Take no load on y’r heart 

Ye can’t kick from y’r heels ; 

Tho’ fortin’ depart 
W’en Cloven-foot deals — 

Jest twinkle y’r eye 
An’ throttle th’ sigh. 


202 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 


“Jest wait fur the deal — 

It’ll pay, pards. 

For ye see, don’t ye see ? 

Stock th’ cards ! 

Ha-ha-ha ! Skinner, that’s th’ kind o’ game-cock 
I am,” and with a horrible grin and sundry bows and 
bodily contortions, he closed the door with a slam- 
bang, which made the loose board partition spring 
and rattle. Then he grasped the stair railing with 
l]is hands, felt his way cautiously down to the pave- 
ment and walked away toward the Sands. 

Skinner had followed Snoozer to the door, and stood 
listening to the retreating footsteps of the proud lord 
of the Dew Drop Inn. His hands were clenched until 
the long, sharp nails were buried deep into his palms, 
and the expression of his face was at once ghastly and 
terrible. He crouched like a panther prepared to 
spring, even snarled and snapped like a famished wolf 
dashing on its prey. In husky whispers he raved and 
blasphemed, cursed heaven and earth, matter and 
space, time and eternity, and finally, overwhelmed by 
anger and exhaustion sank down in his chair, and a 
flood of scalding tears burst from his eyes and ran 
down his haggard, ashen face. 

There, alone, in the dim light of the tallow dip, in 
the intense cold of that miserable attic, in squalid mis- 
ery, he groveled, blasphemed, moaned and wept, 
until the gray light of early dawn came in at his narrow 
window, and then, utterly broken down, he tremblingly 
crept away under the tattered blankets on his bed, and 
sank into deep slumber. 

There had been other sleepless eyes in that miserable 
attic that night, and there had been an attentive observer 


MICHAEL SNOOZER SNEEZES. 


203 


and listener. Little Jim had trembled as he listened, 
comprehending every word, weighing probabilities and 
predicting results. He was shocked and horrified by 
the shameful revelation, and when Snoozer had gone, 
and Skinner sat in his chair, swaying to and fro, weep- 
ing and moaning through the long, dismal hours of the 
night, he watched the tallow dip burn down into the 
throat of the bottle, flicker and go out, leaving the 
room in pitchy darkness. As he listened to the plaint- 
ive moaning of winds around the gables of the attic, 
the rattle of loose boards and shutters, and Skinner’s 
mournful sobs, the room seemed filled with horrible, 
shadowy forms, gibbering, threatening and mocking 
the wicked old man. And so the hours glided slowly 
by, and the night wore away, and not until Skinner 
had retired and began to breathe heavily in slumber, 
did the sweet spirit of rest, lovingly and gently close 
the boy’s weary eyes and waft him away from the 
fears and sorrows of life to the arms of his angel 
mother. 



CHAPTEK XYI. 


SNOOZER PLAYS COMEDY ALONE. 

Michael Snoozer was happy. He had managed 
Skinner admirably, wrung from him, as he termed it, 
“ a right smart chance o’ th’ needful,” and had suc- 
ceeded otherwise, beyond his most sanguine expecta- 
tions. He had gotten Skinner in his power, had 
worked upon the terrors of his guilty conscience, 
pressed him back inch by inch even to the brink of 
despair, and then, suddenly, and without yielding a frac- 
tion of his advantage, had awakened within him new 
courage and fresh hope. He had thereby bound Skin- 
ner to him body and soul, and held him prisoner, shack- 
led by his own evil deeds. He had visited Skinner, 
expecting only to secure Mark Barry’s will; had 
deemed its possession of great importance to himself, 
and yet he had gone away without it and glad that it 
had not fallen into Skinner’s hands. He deemed it a 
fortunate circumstance that Skinner knew nothing of 
the will, inasmuch as Barry would, under Skinner’s 
agreement, receive one-half the value of his uncle’s 
estate, and that, too, without the hazard of additional 
crime. As for himself, and that always most interested 
him, he had already received from Skinner five hun- 
dred dollars, and the promise of five thousand. Had 
he not made a master stroke ? He thought so, and was 
quite satisfied. He had communicated the facts to 
Barry ; had requested him to call at the Dew Drop 
Inn, at 9 o’clock the following evening, and the hands 

204 


SNOOZER PLA VS COJl/ED V ALONE. 


205 


of the clock pointed to half-past eight. Yes, Snoozer 
was happy, as he sat alone in his council chamber, sip- 
ping punch and smoking a fragrant cigar, and in fancy 
he saw a glittering dome and a lofty tower added to 
the Dew Drop Inn. His hands grasped the arms of 
his easy chair, his feet rested on the mantel above his 
head, his eyes were half closed and dreamy, and yet 
their constantly changing expression denoted that his 
mind was not in repose. Occasionally his eyelids 
drooped slowly until the stiff, bristling lashes locked 
together, and he appeared to be gliding away into 
slumber, and then the corners of his eyes would sud- 
denly begin to twitch, the wrinkles on his retreating 
forehead to ripple, the corners of his mouth to creep back 
toward his ears, his huge negro lips to part gradually, 
disclosing two rows of enormous slanting, shovel-shaped 
teeth, and finally a broad grin, fiendish and ghastly, 
rested on his face. He whispered his thoughts con- 
tinually, the sound of his own voice seeming to quicken, 
his understanding of his own meditations, for really 
there was so little intellectuality in his composition, 
and such an overwhelming preponderance of animal 
tendencies, that he was susceptible only to external 
influences. Therefore, the sound of his own voice 
repeating his thoughts impressed them on his memory, 
and enabled him to go from point to point, and act- 
ually reason from cause to effect. Barry,” he mut- 
tered, “is now as helpless as a baby ; he can’t hurt 
nobody, nor do nobody no good. Th’ poor devil’s 
in a snarl w’at nobody but me can git him out 
of, an’ th’ question am, will ’t pay me t’ tangle him 
worse ’til — well, I’ve got him by th’ throat anyhow, 
an’ I don’t know but Id better shut down on him 


2o6 


SNOOZER PLA YS COM ED Y A LOME, 


an’ cut off his supply o’ air entirely. May be ’t mount 
pay t’ let him drag along awhile yit, but he’s my meat 
in the end, anyhow. Skinner belongs t’ me, too, an’ I’ll 
hold his nose t’ th’ stone till th’ fire flies from it, you bet. 
I’ll bleed him till his money-box gits as lean and light 
as a collapsed balloon, an’ then I’ll let him go t’ lie 
down an die o’ disappointment an’ sorrer. That’s th’ 
ticket w’at’ll win th’ boss prize, th’ full w’at’ll sweep 
th’ board,” he said, springing to his feet, while he 
raised his clenched hand above his head, and brought 
it down violently by his side. Then he struck a mock 
tragic attitude, and exclaimed, ‘‘ Madam, come ! This 
gentle an’ an’, unforced record o’ Hamlet sits smilin’ 
on me ’art.” Then he bowed low, wheedling and 
chuckling, retired a few steps, his body still bent in 
salutation, and exclaimed, “Honorable Mr. Skinner, 
y’r honor, sir! Could ye help a feller wi’ th’ use o’ y’r 
name t’ a bank loan, sir? ‘Yes, proud o’ th’ honor 
a-doin’ it,’ did you say, sir? Much obliged, sir, ye’re 
under many obligations to me, sir, thank me. 

“An’ ye, sir (here he bowed low toward the bed- 
post), an’ ye, th’ Eight Keverin’, Honorable Bishop 
Charles Barry, Esquire, me most humble-come-tum- 
ble, sir, receive, sir, th’ ’surance, sir, o’ me most extin- 
guished consideration, sir, an’ believe me, sir, y’r most 
warmest friend and retainer, Michael Snoozer, pastor 
in charge o’ th’ church o’ wice, an’ king o’ th’ Dew 
Drop Inn.” He scraped his right foot back on the 
floor, sided several paces to the right, bowed, skipped 
several paces backward and to the left, bowed again 
toward the bed-post, contorting his face horribly. Then 
he straightened up, broke forth in a hoarse, fiendish 
laugh, advanced to the mantel, lighted a fresh cigar. 


S.VOOZER PLAYS COMEDY A LOME, 20J 

folded his hands behind him, turned his back to the 
fire, leaned his head to one side, half closed his eyes, 
and, with features in repose, stood still and silent, puff- 
ing the fragrant clouds above his head. 

The little French clock on the mantel told the pass- 
ing moments in clear and regular beats, and as Snoozer 
listened, with half-closed eyes, its sharp, distinct ticking 
sounded as a human voice saying, “ Good luck ! good 
luck! good luck!” “ Thank ye,” he said, “thank ye, me 
true little servant, ye’re a trump, sure enough, an’ never 
goes back on a feller. Ye’ve marked th’ time for 
Snoozer these many a year w’at’s gone, an’ never made 
a slip; ye’ve sung him t’ sleep every day an’ night since 
he brought ye home; ye’ve buzzed him ’bout this 
thing an’ that, given him lots o’ good adwice, an’ put 
many a sharp idea in his head. An’ now, w’en Snoozer 
has got th’ world under him an’ grasped th’ lightnin’, 
ye jest goes wild wi’ joy, an’ sings out right lively y’r 
’gratulations. Yes, ye’ve touched th’ right string o’th’ 
fiddle, little feller, an’ ye’ve got th’ right tune now, for 
Snoozer is in luck, ye bet. Yes, good luck! good 
luck! good luck! little daisy, good luck, an^ no mis- 
take.” At that moment the little clock, as though 
replying, began to tell the hour, and its silvery -toned 
bell at each stroke seemed to say, “here!” while its 
ticking continued to proclaim “good luck.” Snoozer’s 
quick ears caught, defined and connected the sounds, 
and as he looked up at the face of the clock, laughed 
and said, “Eight, little sweetheart, ye’ve hit it again, 
‘Eine o’clock. Good luck here!’ K-e-rect! That’s 
th’ hour t’ a dot, an’ if I don’t strike ‘ good luck here ’ 
with Barry, it’ll be contrary t’ me calculations, for I’ve 
got th’ miserable dev — ” 


2o8 


SNOOZER PLAYS COMEDY ALONE. 


At that moment a light rap on the door startled 
him and broke the thread of his discourse to the clock, 
and, facing the door, he commanded, in his usual pomp- 
ous tone, “Come in.” 

Somebody opened the door, came in and, without 
further invitation, sat down before the fire, saying 
in a hollow, husky voice, “ Well, I’m here.” 

That voice was not wholly unfamiliar to Snoozer, 
yet it was evidently changed from its natural tone. 
The form sitting bolt upright in the chair was also 
familiar, outline, clothing and all, but its head was 
encircled by a broad, white bandage down to its eyes, 
and the face was swollen and disfigured beyond recog- 
nition. 

“ I’m here, Snoozer,” he repeated ; “ I’m here what 
there is left of me, but not Avithout painful effort. I 
received your message, and (glancing up at the clock) I 
see I’m promptly on time.” 

“Why, blast me eyes, if it aren’t — Wh}’, blazes! 
W’at hev ye bin doin’ wi’ y’rself ?” sputtered Snoozer. 
“ Why, Barry, durned if I knowed ye. W’at’s bin th’ 
matter? Somebodv rubbed ye down an’ chawed ye 
up?” 

“ Slightly,” Avas the brief and sullen reply. 

“ Tell me all about it, pard, durned if I likes t’ see 
ve in that fix. Did ye get inter a roAv ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ An’ got licked ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ An’ did 3"e punch th’ other feller much ?” 

“Yes, I AAdiipped him like a dog; Avhipped him in 
the street before a jeering crowd ; followed him half a 
square, dealing him blows on the head and face, cutting 


SNOOZER PLA VS COMED V ALONE. 2O9 

the flesh until blood ran at every stroke. Curse him, 
I wish I had blown his brains out, and so I would have 
done had there been a cap on my pistol.” 

‘‘ That would have bin a bad job,” replied Snoozer, 
‘‘guess it’s better as it is. There’s no pay in such biz; 
but who did you tout with, Barry ? Give me th’ ’tic- 
ulars.” 

Charles Barry arose from his chair, made several 
quick turns across the room, muttering curses and gest- 
uring violently. Finally he approached Snoozer, 
rolled the bandage up from his eyes, and said, “ Snoozer, 
the whole plot is discovered. How, or by whom 
originally I don’t know. Still, the fact remains that 
certain persons are fully informed of all our acts, even 
the means employed to get rid of Mark Barry, even of 
our plan in reference to Mrs. Worsham, and my 
designs in that connection. That towering air castle 
has vanished utterly, leaving us firmly in the cl uches of 
the law. At least we are in imminent danger, for I 
believe the facts are now known to the authorities, 
and I warn you, Snoozer, that all the influence at your 
command, all your power and skill may fail, utterly 
fail, to shield us from the consequences.” 

The expression of Michael Snoozer’3 face underwent 
rapid changes as Charles Barry proceeded, changed 
from quiet unconcern to deep interest and finally, 
alarm. His olive complexion first became light purple, 
then straw color and finally pale ash. Beaching 
around the chimney jam he pulled the bell-cord, 
waited a moment, and then rang again violently, and 
stood in a listening attitude. Immediately there were 
quick footsteps along the hall, some one approaching in 
frantic haste, and a moment later the door was dashed 


210 


SNOOZE R EL A VS COM ED Y ALONE. 


open and a negro boy rushed into the room with such 
speed and force as to overturn a chair and fall head- 
long on the floor. 

Get up ! ye black rascal,’’ growled Snoozer, sav- 
agely. “ Get up I say, or I’ll help ye wi’ th’ toe o’ me 
boot. W’at did ye come boltin’ in here in that way 
fur ? Ye’d better put on brakes next time, or I’ll warm 
th’ wax in y’r ears, ye black ape ; now light out o’ this 
right lively, an’ fetch a bottle o’ brandy, some sugar, 
water, ice an’ lemons. Out wi’ ye now, like a streak 
o’ lightnin’, blast y’r stoopid eyes.” 

As the servant hurried away to obey the order, 
Snoozer turned to Barry and said, ‘‘ We’ll take some- 
thin’ t’ kinder settle our nerves, an’ take th’ wrinkles 
out o’ our thinkin’ caps, an’ then we’ll ’liberate o’ th’ 
matter. Truth is I think ye’re a trifle upsot wi’ y’r 
fight, kinder looney like, perhaps ye’ve had a touch o’ 
th’ jim-jams, an’ ye kinder sees things double like. 
Howsomever, I can make up me mind ’bout that w’en 
I’ve hear’n y’r yarn, beginnin’ at th’ fust an’ goin’ 
straight through, no floppin’ sidewise, but toe t’ th’ 
scratch an lollerin a line plumb through t’ th’ end. 
I hear that black ape cornin’ now,” he added in a 
lower voice, assuming a listening attitude,“yes, here he 
am.” At these words the door opened, and the negro 
boy entered, bearing a tray on which were the articles 
Snoozer had ordered. Depositing all on the center- 
table, he stood bowing respectfully and awaiting 
further orders, but Snoozer merely pointed at the door, 
saying, ‘‘get out o’ this, right lively,” and he obeyed 
instantly. 

Snoozer went to the center-table, poured in each 
glass a little water, some pounded ice, two heaping 


SNOOZER PLAYS COMEDY ALONE. 


2II 


spoonfuls of white sugar, and some lemon juice, arid 
finally filled the glasses with pure brandy. 

‘‘ There,” said Snoozer, handing one of the glasses 
to Barry, “ there’s a genuine brandy smasher. Sniff 
that down, an’ if ye’ve had it up y’r nose t’ strong 
lately it’ll kinder straighten ye out, I reckon, an’ ye 
Avon’t see things double any more.” Then, taking the 
other glass from the table, he touched it against Barry’s, 
held it up in the light, looked through the amber col- 
ored liquid and said : 

“ Here’s t’ our friends, have we got any? 

Here’s t’ our luck, is it dead? 

Here’s t’ th’ law, a mere catch-penny! 

Here’s t’ our hopes, have they fled? 

“ Cusses on them that go back on us, 

Cusses on them that won't stay, 

Cusses on them that go quack on us. 

Cusses on them that betray. 

“ Grind knife. 

Load gun. 

Take life, 

Well done! 

“ That’s me own makin’ up, Barry, jes’ as I went 
along, aren’t that scram? and don’t it fit the place? 
Them’s me sentiments, anyhow, an’ th’ words jingle 
O. K., if th’ poetry aren’t quite up t’ th’ scratch.” 

“ Good 1 good !” was Barry's enthusiastic reply. 

You are quite a poet, Snoozer, and you have certainly 
mistaken your calling. But listen : 

“ If you’d quit your dicker 
In souls and in liquor. 

And faucet your mighty brain. 

Your name you could write 
On the towering height 
Of the lofty temple of fame. 


212 


SNOOZER PLA VS COMED V ALONE. 


“ Bat you’ll never do that, 

For water and fat 
Won t mix without pearlash 
Dropped into the vat. 

“ What a pity such skill 
Of reason and quill 
Should be lost to the world, 

Like a murmuring rill, 

Flowing into a swamp 
Of reeds dark and still! 

‘ O, Snoozer, my friend. 

Close the Dew Drop Inn, 

Be great — e'en immortal. 

And pack down the tin.” 

“ Hurrah ! Hurrah !’^ shouted Snoozer, vehemently, 
“ hurray ! Burned if that aren’t good. Blast me 
eyes, but ye’ve taken th’ wind all out o’ me sails, an’ 
left me floppin’ aroun’ in a dead calm. Well, pard, 
here’s a new head o’ hair for ye, an’ confusion t’ y’r 
ole woman.” Then two glasses clicked together, and 
two glasses full of the extract of crime, flavored with 
woe and want, hissed down two human throats. 

‘‘ How’s that, Barry?” inquired Snoozer, smacking his 
lips and blinking his eyes, aren’t that th’ pure quill?” 

Good ! very good, Snoozer,” replied Barry, although 
he made a wry face and shuddered perceptibly. It is 
good, Snoozer — a pure article beyond a doubt.” 

Have a cigar, pard?” inquired Snoozer, passing the 
box to Barry. “ Them’s th’ genuine, reported first 
best.” 

Then the two men sat down by the fire, and as 
Snoozer settled himself comfortably in his chair, he 
said, ‘‘ Well Barry, I guess y’r nerves are settled enough, 
an’ now gives us the ’ticulars o’ th’ bust-up o’ our plans. 


SNOOZER PLA VS CO MED Y ALOXE. 2 I 3 

Then we’ll talk it over an’ look it o’er and see how th’ 
land lays.’^ 

“ In f utherance of our designs,” said Barry, “ I called 
on Grace Worsham last week, the night of the big 
snow storm, let me see, Friday I believe, yes — well, I 
called and was very kindly received. Her mother was 
in bed, which I considered quite fortunate, and gradu- 
ally laid siege to the fortress of her charming daugh- 
ter, but she shrank away from me in terror and was 
about to leave the room, when the door bell rang and 
she went to answer it. When the hall door opened, I 
recognized the voice of that peddling sneak, Leo Cassell. 
As I preferred not to meet him then and there,I slipped 
into an adjoining room just as he entered, but much 
to my surprise I found myself in the presence of a 
woman, dressed in worn and faded black, a disguise, 
I soon discovered, for she proved to be a person of high 
social position with whom I was at one time quite inti- 
mate. I also discovered that she had listened to all I 
had said to Grace Worsham, and, as a matter of course 
did not feel very pleasant toward me. We had a scene, 
quite dramatic, a war of words, and then I had the 
pleasure of hearing a spirited conversation between 
Grace Worsham and that sneak Cassell. He detailed 
our scheme to her in full. Well, when he had spoken 
his piece and made his peace, to which she contributed 
by many flattering attentions, sly, timid caresses, and 
finally an affectionate adieu, I followed him down 
town, stopped at a harness shop and bought a whip, 
overtook him on a street corner, and flogged him until 
from utter exhaustion I was compelled to stop. As I 
did so, he took me at a disadvantage, snatched the whip 
from my hands and knocked me down. I was insensible 


214 


SNOOZER PLA YS COMED V ALOXE. 


several hours, and when consciousness returned, found 
myself in my own room. Now, Snoozer, I have given 
you the facts, and what shall we do ?” 

Snoozer had been an attentive listener, and was, doubt- 
less, much agitated in mind, but possessed such wonder- 
ful control of his nerves that he did not betray the least 
emotion. As Barry concluded, Snoozer arose from his 
chair, leisurely went to the table, filled the two glasses 
again with brandy, handed one to Barry, took up the 
other, nodded significantly, and then the soul-destroy- 
ing potion hissed down their throats. 

^‘Now,” said Snoozer, setting down his glass and 
smacking his lips, “now, Barry, that’ll brighten our 
wits an’ give us grit, so we can talk biz t’ th’ pint an’ 
fight right up t’ th’ scratch, e’en t’ death, an’ never show 
a white feather. Here, throw that stump away an’ 
have a fresh cigar,” handing Barry the box. “So! 
Now what gets me,” he continued, sitting down in his 
easy chair, “ is how that feller Cassell found out about 
it. If I only knowed that, I could tell jest w’at t’ do, 
but, as it is, I’m sorter stumped.” He did not speak 
his thoughts, for, while his lips pronounced words, he 
was thinking thus . “ That’s good enough for Snoozer, an’ 
I’ll gobble th’ whole pot. That gits away with Barry an’ 
leaves me boss o’ the job— stockholder, receiver, treas- 
urer, an’ w’at not ? I’ll take Skinners bribe in Barry’s 
name, an’ then buy Barry off for a thousand or so. He’s 
sheared now most out o’ his wits, an’ I can help him 
along in that line a trifle, an’ he’ll run away t’ th’ 
mountains or some furrin part an’ keep away. I’ll 
warrant. 

“We’re in a bad fix, Barry,” he continued aloud, “ an’ 
I tell yer fur a fact, that Snoozer is up a stump fur 


SNOOZER PLAYS COMEDY ALONE. 


215 


onc’t. I’m af eared we’re done fur, and th’ result ’ll be 
we’ll have t’ break rock fur the people th’ balance o’ 
our natural lives, that is, if w’e stay here t’ be gobbled. 
So it seems t’ me that th’ only sensible thing fur 
you t’ do will be t’ git right out o’ this in double-quick 
time.” 

I have been thinking of that,” replied Barry, and 
I am fortunate to be able to do so at any time, for I'm 
ahead of game about tw^enty-five hundred. But what 
do you propose to do? You are implicated also.” 

Never do you mind about Snoozer ; he will take care 
of himself, ye bet. Howsomever, t’ tell th’ truth, I shall 
have t’ smell around some fust, t’ find just w’at’s w’at 
afore I can make any plans. To begin with, I want t’ 
find out how that feller Cassell got his information. 
That’s th’ important pint, an’ w’en I find out ’bout ’t, 
I can then make up me mind whether it’ll pay best t’ 
face th’ music or run. Anyhow, I shall just lay low 
fur awhile, an’ set me smellin’ committee t’ work. If 
there’s any pay dirt in it, they’ll find it, ye bet. I’m 
in no great danger anyhow, fur ift comes t’ th’ pinch 
I can bring witnesses t’ prove anything I want, an’, 
besides that, I can tell ye, pard, it won’t them law- 
yers an’ judges t’ be very ’ticular ’bout huntin’ up evi- 
dence ’gainst Snoozer, fur ye see, pard, I own th’ whole 
batch on ’em, an’ they’re mine t’ keep, ye bet, still I 
don’t want t’ be beholdin’ t’ ’em if I can help it, and I’ll 
try t’ work through meself, but if worse comes to worse 
I’ll play th’ high trumps. But ye see, pard, ye have 
got nothin’ t’ fall back on. I can’t help ye any if I get 
into trouble, for I’ll have t’ look out fur Snoozer, ’spe- 
cially. Y’r reputation aren’t any too good o’ late, 
’cause ye’re known t’ be slick-fingered wi’ th’ keards. 


2i6 


SNOOZER FLAYS COMEDY ALONE. 


an’ ye’re ’spected considerable o’ shovin’ tli’ queer. 
Lookin’ th’ matter all o’er, I ’spect ye’d better light 
out fur some other port, where ye’ll be safe. I’ll cover 
up y’r tracks an’ manage y’r biz fur ye here, if ye wants 
me t’. It won’t pay fur ye t’ stay here an’ try t’ cheek it 
through wi’ me, fur if w’at y’rtellin’ is true, ye’re just as 
sure t’ be gobbled up afore this day week, just as sure as 
ye lives t’ that time, providin’ ye don’t light out o’ this. 
Snoozer knows a thing or two, an’ gives ye fair warnin’ 
now in time. Howsomever, ^^e’re y’r own man at pres- 
ent, an’ if 3^e don’t think as I do ’bout it, why just click 
along an’ see how 3^e’ll come out on ’t.” 

While Snoozer talked, Barrj^ arose from his chair 
and began to walk the floor excitedly. His guilty con- 
science spurred him unmercifullj^, and yet his strong 
will struggled desperately against his fears. He real- 
ized that his wicked intrigue had utterly failed, that 
its most direful consequences threatened him, and that 
death or imprisonment were his sure rewards in the 
near future if he failed to place himself beyond the 
grasp of the law. He knew Cassell to be a brave and 
determined foe, a tireless, sleepless, vigilant aveno-er, 
and Snoozer’s blunt arguments convinced him that 
arrest, conviction and punishment could not long be 
delayed if he did not at once seek safety in flight. As 
Snoozer paused to relight his cigar, which had gone 
out while he talked, Barrv paused before him and 
said, “I am satisfied as to the wisdom of your 
advice, Snoozer, and I shall not hesitate to accept and 
act on it at once. I will leave the city to-night for 
Colorado or Xe w Mexico. I shall go from here directly 
to my lodgings, pack my baggage and send it to the 
depot yet to-night. Even now I fear I have delayed 


SNOOZE R PLA YS COMED Y ALONE . 2 1 7 

too long, and may run into a trap the first move I 
make, for if Cassell has been as industrious in pursuit 
of me as his retaliation for the flogging I gave him was 
sudden and irresistible, the hounds of the law are even 
now on my track. However, I shall be compelled to 
hazard results, and make a bold dash for liberty — aye, 
for life.” As he spoke the last words, he walked the 
floor excitedly a moment, then paused before the cen- 
ter table, and, with quivering hands, poured a glassful 
of brandy from the bottle, swallowed it at a single 
draught, and then, approaching Snoozer, who stood 
leaning on the mantel with back to the fire, he 
said : 

‘‘Can I depend upon you — can I trust you, 
Snoozer ? ” 

“ Well, I should gulp to gurgle. Ye bet y’r life ye 
can, Barry,” was the almost eager reply, and yet some- 
how Snoozer became wonderfully and suddenly inter- 
ested in the blaze of the fire as it curled and flashed 
up the chimney, for instead of meeting Barry’s earnest, 
questioning gaze, he glanced around over his shoulder 
and watched the flame and smoke. 

“Yebety’r life ye can,” he repeated, after a brief 
pause, and turning, looked young Barry full in the face, 
but the cunning twinkle which had danced in his eyes 
while he looked in the fire had given place to one of 
deep earnestness and solicitude, and Barry felt satisfied 
of his sincerity. 

“ But why d’ye ask ? ” inquired Snoozer, innocently. 
“Any wire-pullin’ ye want done while ye’re gone ? If 
so. I’m the feller w’at can do it up scram, ye bet ! ” 

“ I know you can, Snoozer,” replied Barry, but I am 
through with such business, for the present, at least. I 


2I8 


SNOOZE /a PLA YS CO MED Y ALONE. 


want simply to know if I can depend on you not to 
betray my whereabouts, no matter what happens.’’ 

‘‘ Ye bet ye can ; just bet y’r bottom dollar on ’t, 
an’ ye’ll win th’ Avager.” 

“ I know it, Snoozer, and thank you,” replied Barry, 
grasping his hand, “ and now will you attend to a lit- 
tle business for me ? ” 

“ Certain, ye can git me t’ do it, w’at is it ? ” 

“ I want you to collect a few honor dues for me, five 
hundred dollars or so, for which I will give you writ- 
ten orders, if you will furnish writing material,” and 
he sat down at the table, while Snoozer brought pen 
ink and writing-paper, and placed them before him. 

Let me see,” said Barry, reflectively, as he dipped 
the pen in the ink ; “ I’ll write you three orders, one 
on — ” 

‘‘W’at’s th’ use o’ that?” interrupted Snoozer; just 
put it down that I’m y’r regular biz man while ye’re 
gone, to collect money for ye, pay y’r debts (if ye owes 
any, an’ wants ’em paid). Just make a kind o’ general 
bill o’ ’thority, so nobody’ll ’spect that there’s a screw 
loose somewhere, an’ that ye’ve skipped off on y’r ear 
for fear o’ the law.” 

“True, I didn’t think of that,” replied Barry, and 
he began to write: 

“ To Whom it May Concern: 

“This certifies that I have this day appointed Michael Snoozer my 
3gent and attorney, and I hereby delegate to him authority to sign 
my name in receipt and to contracts and obligations as he may 
deem to my interest. Charles Barry.” 

Then he read it to Snoozer, who listened attentively, 
while his eyes reflected his intense satisfaction, but he 
remarked, carelessly, “ I guess that’ll do well enough, 
for I don’t s’pose I’ll have much biz t’ see to, eh ? ” 


SNOOZER PLAYS COMEDY ALONE. 219 

“Ko,” replied Barry, ‘‘collect two hundred and forty 
from little Bradshaw, a hundred and ten from Foxey 
Grube, and three hundred from Lafe Burgiss. That 
is all, I believe.” He had written down the names and 
amounts on a slip of paper, folded both and handed 
them to Snoozer, saying : “ Here they are, and now I 

must be off. Then he arose, poured out another full 
glass of brandy, drank it, put on his great-coat and 
hat with nervous haste, grasped SnoozeFs hand and 
said merely, as he hurried out, “ Good-bye, I’ll write 
you soon.” 

As Charles Barry dashed along toward the city, 
behind a pair of spirited horses, he seemed to be in 
feverish haste, frequently calling out to the driver 
impatiently, faster ! faster! ” But when he alighted 
before his lodging-house, he was perfectly calm and 
self-possessed, having arrived at a new determination, 
and as he sat before the cheerful fire in his room enjoy- 
ing a fragrant cigar, he muttered, “ It is all well 
enough anyhow, Snoozer can hold the sack and is per- 
fectly welcome to all the game he catches. There are 
other men in the world quite as cunning, I would 
never have suspected, had he not overdone matters by 
requesting the power of attorney, Snoozer and Skinner 
will both bear watching, and I’ll constitute myself a 
committee of one for that duty. My place of conceal- 
ment will be as thoroughly secure as though it were 
under the cypress boughs of the Dismal Swamp, or in 
the wilderness of the Eocky Mountains.” 

Meanwhile, Snoozer remained sitting by the fire in 
his council chamber at the Dew Drop Inn, grinning, 
chuckling, scheming, and so remained until the little 
French clock proclaimed midnight. Then with yawns 


220 


SNOOZER ELAYS COMEDY A LOME. 


and stretchings, he arose, undressed, put out the light, 
and soon, under the warm rose blankets of his comfort- 
able bed, he forgot intrigue and glided into deep slum- 
ber. He was in his element — the only condition in 
which he was not absolutely dangerous. 


CHAPTER XYIT. 


FOXEY GRUBE RECEIVES A VALENTINE. 

It was Valentine day, and Foxey Grube was out on 
his regular morning promenade. He was dressed in 
the very extreme of the ilashy style peculiar to his 
class, and with scrupulous care and neatness. His 
imperial and mustache Avere waxed and twisted a la 
Napoleon — his blonde hair clustered in tiny ringlets 
under the brim of his jockey little hat, his cheeks had 
been freshly and skillfully pinked and his lips bright 
carmined. His eyebrows had not been slighted, having 
been freshly penciled, and over all his face and hair 
had been sprinkled some delightful perfume. His 
necktie ! ah me, what a Avonderful production of art — 
delicate sky blue, Avith Avhite vines and flowers inter- 
Avoven and in clusters, raised as though embroidered, 
and Avith a border an inch Avide, of very delicate salmon 
color. It was a veritable counterpane in size and shape, 
and Avas folded neatly, tied in a square knot, and 
adorned by a magnificent diamond pin, very valuable. 
On the little finger of hisAvhite, delicate left hand Avasa 
fine diamond cluster ring, and around his neck hung a 
very long and heavy lady’s gold chain fastened to a stem- 
Avinding Swiss Avatch, on the upper case of which Avas 
engraved and studded thickly Avith tiny diamonds the 
name of its OAvner, “EdAvard Grube.” His great coat, 
of the finest English Melton, of delicate mouse color, 
fur-lined and trimmed, was entirely innocent of dust or 
stain, and his bright purple silk plush vest, and doA^e- 

221 


222 


rOXEY GRUBE'S VALENTINE. 


colored doe-skin pants fitted liis form as neatly as bark 
on a tree. In his left hand he carried a pair of otter-skin 
gloves and in his right a very slender, tapering, ebony, 
gold-headed cane. lie seemed in exceedingly good 
humor, and as he skipped lightly along Wabash avenue, 
through the throngs of uppertendom’s most prominent 
and august representatives, out ostensibly as a matter of 
duty to one’s self, and with a single motive to-wit : to 
take vigorous exercise in the pure bracing atmosphere 
of winter, but really to be seen by others and to see 
and feel jealous of other’s clothing, general appearance, 
etc. ; as he pressed his \vay through the throng, he 
performed the Boston Dip and Kangaroo Droop with 
more than ordinary skill. 

As he turned a certain street corner, he met a tidy, 
gentlemanly lad, who, as he approached, bowed politely, 
raised his hat and held out a dainty, perfumed billet- 
doux, and, as Grube took it from his hand, hurried on 
and disappeared around the street corner. 

With trembling hand Grube broke the seal and drew 
forth two tiny sheets of paper, rose-colored and per- 
fumed, on which were written beautifully, in a lady’s 
hand several verses of poetry addressed, 

“TO EDWARD GRUBE 

FROM 

HIS VALENTINE.” 

He stood still in the freezing atmosphere to read, 
and, as he leaned against a lamp post, shivered with 
cold and excitement, but went straight through to the 
last word, and as he returned the valentine to its 
envelope and put it carefully into his inside coat pocket, 
just over his heart, he exclaimed, joyfully, “It is from 
her, I am quite sure. If she is in her boudoir she can 


FOXEY GRUBB’S VALENTINE. 


223 


see me now. I hope she is there,” and he kissed his 
hand toward the window, as he moved slowly on, but 
the curtains were closely drawn, and he could not see 
two lovely eyes peeping at him through an opening in 
the blind of another room, else his heart would have 
collapsed totally. 

Somehow, and he did not pause to debate the pros 
or cons, the whys or wherefores, he had twice made 
the circuit of a certain aristocratic square, which each 
time brought him before the Palace of the Avenue, 
and somehow, and he did not pause in the freezing 
atmosphere to endeavor to unravel that mystery 
either, his gaze rested continually, and with more than 
ordinary earnestness, on a certain window of French 
plate glass in the second story front of that beautiful 
building. Twice had he tripped lightly by, doing his 
neatest and prettiest nipping, but alas, only the bright 
sunlight shimmered on the polished surface of the glass, 
revealing only the heavy gilded frame of an oil paint- 
ing on the wall just at the focal point of light. In vain 
he looked for a certain beautiful face, just behind the 
glass, or a certain queenly form moving gracefully 
within. Kate Dudley’s boudoir was evidently unoc- 
cupied at that moment, or at least she was not visible, 
His heartrending sighs were wafted away on the cold, 
emotionless air, and frost nipped his nose and pinched 
his tender toes, yet he was insensible to the pain, and 
with wonderful perseverence, and heroism unparalleled, 
he made another circuit of the square, nipping and 
sighing as he gazed at the enchanting window. 

Ah! his heart gave a great throb and began to pul- 
sate violently, while warm blood surged through his 
veins, mantling his cheeks with a bright crimson flush, 


224 FOXEY GRUBE'S VALENTINE. 

which put to shame the counterfeit there, and a gauzy 
film obscured his vision. Yet he could see the window, 
and close behind f,he glass a form and face to which 
his excited imagination gave familiar outline and sub- 
stance. lie stood spell bound, riveted to the pave- 
ment by the quick hammer of passion, and gazed in 
rapture, bowed, smirked, and flirtingly drew forth 
his perfumed white silk handkerchief and waved it 
slyly. The figure had paused before the window — it 
was a female form, tall and stately — she was watching 
him — ah ! heaven sustain him, she had kissed her hand, 
grasped the sash — raised it — and— merciful heavens! 
Had his Cleopatra suddenly turned black ? In a twink- 
ling had her long silken hair become kinked, matted 
and her features disfigured and swollen? She waved 
something white — a pillow case, a towel, or possibly 
an article of wearing apparel. She called out some- 
thing which he could not clearly understand, but the 
voice grated harshly in his ears, and he hurried away 
at an astonishing speed, laughing heartily at his own 
discomfiture and disappointment, and muttering as ho 
rushed along, ‘^The impudent nigger, a greasy pot- 
wrestler or laundress. Oh Lord, I’ll never survive it ! 
Ha ! ha ! ha 1 sold ! sold and delivered 1 ” 
Notwithstanding his disappointment and chagrin, 
he was in excellent humor, and was laughing quietly 
as he ascended the front steps of his lodging-house and 
inserted his latch-key in the lock. He was about to 
enter when he heard a light footstep on the pavement, 
and turning, beheld the trembling form and sad face of 
little Jim. The child had been weeping, and his eyes 
were red and swollen. He had been running, and was 
so exhausted that he could scarcely walk. His emaci- 


FOXEY GRUBE'S VALENTINE. 


225 


ated face seemed, if possible, more shrunken and pinched 
than usual, while his large blue eyes had retired deeper 
into their sockets, and dark brown rings encircled 
them. His cheeks had fallen deeper in on his jaws, 
leaving his cheek bones sharply prominent, and his 
thin, bloodless lips tightly drawn. His face was white, 
of that peculiar hue which is ever the forerunner of 
death, and his tiny shriveled hands seemed cold and stiff. 

Grube took all in at a glance, and for a moment 
stood still and mute, looking pityingly down on his 
little friend. The child had advanced to the first step, 
rubbing his cold little hands together, and looking up 
questioning!}^, beseechingly at Grube’s kind face. At 
that moment his thin lips moved spasmodically, in vain 
endeavors to speak, but his voice was gone, and only a 
wail — a faint whisper, just distinguishable, came, 
Papa, dear Papa.” 

As these three words sounded in his ears like a sweet, 
faint whisper of a spirit, Foxey Grube, the vain fop, 
flirt and gambler, instantly forgot his criminal weak- 
ness and depravity, his vices and evil tendencies, and 
became his true and better self. Yisions of a beautiful 
woman, who had once called him darling, but who had 
passed away to a higher and purer life ere her soul had 
been stained and blighted by intentional sin, floated 
before his eyes, and a flood of tender emotions swept 
his heart. Tears blinded his eyes so he could barely 
see the sad face and little trembling form on the pave- 
ment, which stood holding its thin little hands up to 
him, beseechingly, whispering, “ Papa ! dear Papa!” 

A moment only, Grube stood thus looking down, 
grasping the door knob, and then in a flash he stood 
by his side, stooped down, lifted him in his arms, 


226 


FOXEY GRUBE'S VALENTIXE. 


pressed a kiss on his cold face and sobbed, My child, 
my dear, dear child ! ” 

Yes, Foxey Grube, the gambler, fop and rogue, the 
dainty, exquisite Foxey Grube, the man of the world, 
and champion of the gaming table, the schemer and 
fashionable leech, sucking financial blood copiously 
from young and silly millionaires, hanging around the 
charming portals of the tipper circle (?) on the upper 
crust of uppertendom, and seducing the unwary and 
passion- wild into his strong nets. Yes, that identical 
Foxey Grube was actually there on the street in the 
broad light of day, holding in his arms a poor, forsaken 
child, weeping over him and pressing warm kisses on 
his cold face. 

Who can doubt that there are latent springs of 
purity and goodness in every soul which may accom- 
plish a thorough regeneration of the moral being if 
opened by the magic touch of pure affection ? In the 
light of every-day experience can we not believe, 
truly, that there is no human soul utterly depraved — 
utterly lost beyond all hope of regeneration through 
pure influences? Can we not believe, do toe not hiow, 
that there are within all human hearts a well-spring 
of purity, a fountain and reservoir of truth and 
goodness ? They may be clogged and obstructed by 
evil passions and influences. They may be drained 
and dried up by the fires of lust, intemperance and 
selfishness, but the fountain head is in the heart of the 
Great Eternal, and the Master has said that with Him 
“all things are possible.” 

A few moments Foxey Grube stood thus with the 
boy, leaning over him, sobbing and kissing his cold, 
white face, and then, with a quick, firm tread, he 


FOXEY GK USE'S VALENTINE . 


227 


ascended the steps and entered the house, bearing the 
child in his arms ; up the stairs and along the dark hall, 
with quick, elastic tread, to the door of his room, which 
he unlocked with nervous haste, and put Jimmie 
tenderly down in his easy chair before the fire. 

“There, my darling, you’ll soon be warm,” said 
Grube, poking the fire until the bright blaze roared and 
flashed up the chimne}^, throwing a pleasant glow of 
heat out into the room. “ Poor little boy, where have 
you been ? ” 

“ I have been, since daylight, out around the alleys 
hunting for rags and paper, and. Papa, I — I couldn’t 
find much, and — and Uncle was very angry about it, 
and — and when I went home from the junk dealer’s 
with only seven cents, he — he — ” here the child’s 
voice failed, he sobbed and finally began to weep. 

Grube knelt down by the child and caressed him, 
spoke kindly, very, very kindly. There was pathos, 
there was music in his voice, sweet music from the 
vibration sof the harp strings of his soul. 

Finally he arose and began walking the floor with 
a quick, nervous tread, made several turns, paused 
before Jimmie, and in a tone bordering on fierceness, 
as he removed his great coat, and the white circle 
began to appear around his mouth, “ What did he do 
to my little son ? ” 

“He — he whipped me with a strap and drove me 
out into the street, and told me to stay away always,” 
replied Jimmie, and then, after a little hesitation, 
he added, “He has been very angry since the night 
Mr. Snoozer was there, and — ” 

Grube had removed his great coat, except the right 
arm, which still remained in the sleeve, and he paused 


228 


FOXEY GRUBB'S VALENTINE. 


as Jimmie mentioned Snoozer’s name, flashed an 
inquiring look at the child, gave vent to a prolonged 
whistle and struck an attitude of surprise, and said, 
“ Turned up Jack ! ” as he hung his great-coat in the 
closet. “ Turned up Jack, count me one ! ” Then he 
drew a chair up close to Jimmie, took his numb little 
hands between his soft warm palms, and said, So, 
Jimmie, he has been cross since Snoozer called, eh ? ” 

“Yes, Papa; Uncle has been very angry since Mr. 
Snoozer wanted so very much money, you see, so much 
pay for the big papers which Uncle got out of the sack 
I found New-Year’s morning, and Mr. Snoozer told 
Uncle that if he didn’t pay, oh, I don’t remember how 
many dollars, but a great lot, ever so much, he would 
tell all about it and have Uncle put in jail, and so Uncle 
had to give Mr. Snoozer a paper to get money from 
the bank, and promised to give him more as soon as he 
got through with his fuss with the lawyers — that’s 
all.” 

“ Just so,” said Grube, in a tone expressive of deep 
satisfaction, as he released Jimmie’s hands, arose, went 
to the closet, brought out a long black bottle labeled 
“ port wine,” drew the cork, filled a wine-glass and 
carried it to Jimmie, saying, “ Drink this, dear, it will 
do you good and make you warm.” The little fellow 
eagerly drank the sweet, delicious wine, and then Grube 
undressed him, taking off every article of clothing, 
brought from the closet one of his own heavy, silk, 
knit undershirts, warmed it before the fire, then slipped 
it over Jimmie’s head and fixed it on him as best he 
could, lifted him in his arms, carried him to the bed, 
turned down the downy rose blankets, laid the child 
between them as tenderly as a loving mother would 


FOXEY GRUBE’S VALENTINE. 


229 


her first-born babe, covered him up snug and warm^ 
and said, “Now you must go to sleep if you can 
dear, I’m going out a little while. You can watch 
Ben, the bird, up there, and the gold-fish in the aqua- 
rium over by the window, and you mustn’t get lone- 
some.” Then he kissed the child very much as mothers 
kiss their babes, and put on his overcoat, hat and fur 
gloves, and went out*, locking the door behind him. 

Passing along the dark hall, down the front stairs, 
out the front hall-door, down the stone steps to the 
pavement, he walked briskl}^ up the street, just as any 
other man would have walked, in his haste forgetting 
his Kangaroo Droop and Boston Dip. Had he really for- 
gotten it, or had his whole moral nature in that one hour 
been revolutionized and undergone a radical change ? 
Had new impulses been born in his heart, and had the 
false, faithless, corrupt fop become the true man? 
Certain it is that he walked as other men walk, and 
with the firm, quick tread of the successful man who 
creates circumstances and molds them to his uses. 

On he went, square after square, until in the fashiona- 
ble retail business portion of the city, he entered a 
merchant-tailor’s establishment and made some very 
queer purchases. Ah me, how some of the fashionable 
city belles who were enamored of Grube would have 
held up their hands in wild astonishment could they 
have beheld the articles of his purchase. Fortunately 
those ladies were not there, and so, in peace, Grube was 
permitted to conclude his purchases, and after ordering 
the same sent to his lodging-house, repaired thither 
himself. As he entered his room, he found Jimmie 
sleeping peacefully, his wan face lighted up with a 
blissful smile, and he stood looking down pityingly 


230 FOXEY GR USE'S VALENTINE. 

upon him, muttering savagely between his closed teeth, 
‘‘ He shall never lay his cruel villainous hands on you 
again, poor little fellow, and for every blow lie has 
dealt you, the keen lash of the law in the grasp of even- 
handed justice shall scourge him three times.” Just 
then a gentle rap came on the door, and in response to 
his invitation the housekeeper entered, bearing a bun- 
dle which she laid on the center-table, saying, simply, 
“A package for you, Mr.Grube,” and immediately went 
out. 

For more than an hour Grube sat in his easy chair 
before the fire, smoking and reading, while Jimmie slept 
.peacefully and wandered in beautiful dreamland. 
Finally he awoke, and as he opened his eyes, started and 
seemed confused. He rubbed his face, and looked 
wistfully around, doubtless believing that he was 
still in the mazes of a pleasant dream, and although 
the bird, pictures and gold-fishes were familiar objects, 
he doubted not that when full consciousness returned, 
he would be compelled to face the chilling realities of 
the miserable garret and the terrors of his uncle’s 
anger. So he closed his eyes again in the hope of 
wooing that blissful hallucination, of remaining just a 
little longer in that sweet trance, and so escape, 
moment by moment, the horrible realities of life. 

Grube coughed and dropped his book on the floor, 
arose, poked the fire and put on more coal. The noise 
aroused Jimmie from his blissful trance, and in an 
instant he was wide awake and comprehended the sit- 
uation. With a joyful exclamation, he sat up in bed, 
glancing hastily around as if to assure himself of the 
pleasant reality, and Grube hastened to him, saying, 
“ Did you have a nice sleep Jimmie?” “Oh, yes sir,” 


FOXEY GRUBERS VALENTINE. 


231 


he replied, gratefully, “and I feel so much better, may I 
get up now, Papa?” “ Yes dear,” replied Grube, ever so 
gently, “yes dear, but see how thoroughl}^ I’ll cleanse 
your clothes first.” Then Grube went to the fire, took 
from the chair one article at a time, and laid them on 
the blazing grate. In a few moments they were reduced 
to ashes before the child’s astonished gaze, who, as 
Grube proceeded with his cleansing process, cast ques- 
tioning glances at his face. “Don’t you think they are 
clean now, Jimmie?” asked Grube, laughingly, as he 
poked the ashes. “Yes sir,” was the rueful reply, but — 
but what am I to wear ? This shirt is too large, and 
then you see my legs and feet will be bare.” “ That is 
true,” replied Grube, with feigned dismay. “That is 
true, and the shirt won’t do at all. I’ll have to cut off 
the legs of a pair of my pants and the sleeves of my 
best coat, and pin them up so they’ll fit you. I expect 
you might wear a pair of my boots, so I’ll just burn 
this old pair of shoes,” and he committed them also to 
the flames. Then he took Jimmie in his arms, put him 
gently down in the easy chair by the fire, and started 
toward the closet, ostensibly to fetch the coat and pants, 
but paused at the center-table, took the bundle in him 
hands, and exclaimed, “Why, what is this?” As be 
opened the package, Grube burst forth in the same 
tone of surprise. “ As I live, my little son, here is a 
handsome suit of boy’s clothes, and I think it will just 
fit you.” 

“Oh, Papa!” exclaimed Jimmie, eagerly rushing 
toward Grube and clapping his hands gleefully, “ are 
they for me ? Do say they are for me.” “ I expect 
they are, dear,” replied Grube, delightedly, “ as there 
is no other little boy in the house. They were cer- 


232 


FOXEY GRUBE'S VALENTINE. 


t^ainly intended for you by the good friend who sent 
them. Perhaps Santa Claus has just remembered 
you.” Then Grube removed the knit shirt f rom 
Jimmie, and, as he did so, discovered the cruel welts 
which Skinner had inflicted on the child’s back, with 
the strap, but he only ground his teeth together and 
mentally cursed the cruel old man. In a few minutes 
Jimmie was dressed in his new suit, and as proud as a 
drum-major on dress parade, but in the very midst of 
his glee, Jimmie stopped short, looked up, inquiringly— 
almost beseechingly at Grube, and said, “You bought 
these beautiful thingsfor me, didn’t you. Papa?” “Yes, 
dear,” replied Grube, smiling through tears, “Yes, I 
bought them.” 

Jimmie stood still a moment, looking down at the 
carpet, and then suddenly seized Grube’s hand, kissed 
it, and wept tears of gratitude. Grube lifted him 
tenderly in his arms, sat down in the easy chair before 
the fire, and rocked him as mothers, fond mothers, 
do their children. Then, when Jimmie became calm, 
Grube helped him put on his beautiful new Spanish 
cloak, nice fur gloves, and warm fur cap, then put on 
his own wrappings, and together they went out, to 
dine at a fashionable restaurant. After Jimmie’s rav- 
enous appetite had been thoroughly satisfied, Grube 
ordered a carriage, and they drove to the Palace of the 
Avenue. Alighting, they rang the bell, were admitted, 
and at once conducted to the library, where they were 
kindly received by Judge Dudley. They found him 
very busy, making up his case against Skinner, andGrube 
at once entered into conversation with him in reference 
thereto. The various points of Grube’s evidence were 
discussed at length, and in minutest detail, together 


FOXEY GRUBE'S VALENTINE. 233 

with the general line of defense, and so clearly and 
convincingly did Judge Dudley reason, that Grube felt 
assured of Skinner’s entire defeat. 

So this is Skinner’s nephew,” said Judge Dudley, 
nodding his head toward Jimmie, who sat before the 
fire, wrapped in wonder and admiration of the beauti- 
ful things all around. 

“ Yes, that is Skinner’s nephew.” 

Why he is well dressed.” 

“ Yes, moderately so, but at my expense,” replied 
Grube with a smile. 

“ Ah ! I see, you are generous, Mr. Grube, and I 
have a high appreciation of it, I assure you ; but are 
you quite able to provide for the little fellow ? ” 

‘‘Abundantly,’^ replied Grube, coloring deeply, “and 
I shall see to it that he wants for nothing hereafter.” 

“And he drove the child out to starve and freeze?” 

“ He did, sir.” 

“He is a eonsummate villain, a heartless, soulless 
wretch as ever lived, but we will crush him with the 
strong arm of the law — utterly annihilate him.” 

“ I feel assured of that,” replied Grube, “but I have 
another point which perhaps may aid us. Michael 
Snoozer is sotnehow connected with the wretched busi- 
ness — is one of the prime conspirators beyond a doubt. 
I learn from Jimmie that Snoozer called on Skinner 
recently, and it appears they had a stormy interview, 
and also that Snoozer as usual, came off victorious. 
Evidently, he possesses valuable information in relation 
to this suit, and the result of their interview was that 
Skinner gave him a check for a large amount (doubt- 
less hush money), and promised more, contingent upon 
certain events, which, of course, Jimmie could not 


234 FOXKY GRUBE'S VALENTINE. 

clearly comprehend, but it is significant that he is to 
pay Snoozer the money ‘ when his fuss with the lawyers 
is settled''’’* 

Ah!” replied Judge Dudley, thoughtfully, “I 
don’t like that new feature of the case, Snoozer is a 
powerful and dangerous antagonist in any relation, 
and two such dangerous and villainous characters in 
close communion and league, augurs a deep-laid 
scheme for plunder and perhaps blood. But we will 
have to meet them on their own ground, and defeat 
them on their own issues. God is just, and right is 
irresistible.” 

Shortly thereafter, Grube and his little protege were 
being whirled along in the carriage toward their lodg- 
ing-house, and, as they drew near, Jimmie timidly put 
his arms around Grube’s neck, and, in a tremulous 
voice, asked as he looked beseechingly into his face, 
‘‘ Papa, may I stay with you as long as I live, I won’t 
stay long. Papa dear.” 

Foxey Grube, the confidence man, the schemer, the 
fashionable financial blood-letter and champion of the 
gaming-table, leaned over the yearning child, and, 
pressing a kiss upon his forehead, said, with emotion, 
“ Yes, darling, you shall stay with me always, and you 
shall be my dear little son.” 

Then, looking out of the carriage window up at the 
clear blue sky and raising his hand above his head, he 
continued in a tone of deep earnestness, ‘‘ If there is 
a God, of which I have no doubt, may He now witness 
my solemn oath, that I Avill henceforth be a father 
indeed to this, m3" dear child, God help me ! ” 

What? what? Foxey Grube repeating God’s 
name pra3"erfully ? Surely the millennium is at hand I 


CHAPTEE XYIII. 


A FIERCE LEGAL BATTLE. 

The trial of the case of Ealph Skinner against the 
heirs of Mark Barry had been progressing three days, 
the complainant being represented by two very able 
attorneys, or rather, they were his mouth-pieces, for he 
sat with them in court and managed his own case in 
minutest detail. The leather-like wrinkles of his face 
seemed to be fixed, and even more repulsive than usual; 
his eyes, cold gray and deep set under projecting fore- 
head and long, coarse, white eyebrows, sparkled 
viciously, and his thin, shriveled lips seemed to have 
fallen deeper inward and drawn tightly over his tooth- 
less jaws. He betrayed not the least nervousness, unless 
the continual but scarcely perceptible muscular twitch- 
ing about the corners of his eyes might have been so 
regarded. He was dressed in a suit of black broadcloth, 
of very old style of make, and worn to glossy smooth- 
ness. They were wrinkled as though just taken from 
a chest where they had lain many years, for the 
moths had made inroads, having eaten holes here and 
there, and made network of other portions. He sat 
grim and silent at the table, flashing looks of hate and 
defiance at opposing counsel, and anon scanning the 
faces of the jury, as though endeavoring to divine their 
thoughts, to note the impressions of testimony, and 
thereby conjecture their verdict. He listened breath- 
lessly to the rulings of the court, smiled triumphantly 
when in his favor, and frowned and glared fiercely 
toward the Judge when against him. 

235 


236 A FIERCE LEGAL BATTLE. 

The defense was conducted by Judge Dudley alone. 
He was a tower of moral strength, a fortress of honor- 
able associations, a reservoir of wisdom and legal abil- 
ity, and an avalanche of logic and eloquence. He stood 
alone, as the mountain faces the storm, and he moved, 
pressing back his opponents gradually, but as surely 
and irresistibly as the ocean tide creeps upon the shore. 
Backward, step by step, inch by inch, from point to 
point, onward, downward he pressed, until but a span 
remained between them and total annihilation — until 
but a hair line intervened between him and victory, 
but, alas, there he paused, for he could not cross it. 

Skinner had shrewdly rested his case upon a single 
issue, viz., the genuineness of the signatures to the 
deeds, and stubbornly demanded thereunder official 
recognition by the court of his title and issuance of 
writs of ejectment. 

The defense claimed that the deeds were fraudulent, 
the alleged signature of Mark Barry thereto having 
been forged, invited comparison with Barry’s actual 
signature, properly authenticated ; introduced testi- 
mony of experts in reference thereto, and of Barry’s 
agents — the real estate firm in charge of his property 
— who afiirmed most positively their belief that Barry’s 
signature had been forged to Skinner's deeds; and 
brought forth as evidence, aside from the irregularities 
apparent on the face of the signature to the deeds, 
Mark Barry’s letter to them, dated subsequent to the 
date of Skinner’s alleged deeds, in which Barry ordered 
certain extensive and costly repairs of the property^ and 
so the case stood on the evening of the third day. 

Skinner was mutely jubilant as he went from the 
court-room, and hurried along the street with the light, 


A FIERCE LEGAL BATTLE. 


237 


quick tread of youth. He ascended the five long 
flights of stairs leading to Ins miserable garret, two 
steps for one, bounding upward like a boy just home 
from school. The icy surface of his leather-like skin 
actually took on a faint flush and warmth, and a gleam 
of intense satisfaction flashed from his eyes. His smile, 
ever repulsive, and more like the grin of a wild beast 
preparing to snap at a foe, than like a human expres- 
sion of satisfaction or delight, was doubly hideous, 
revealing the wild orgies of the worst passions of his 
utterly vile nature. One by one passed in review over 
his face the furies — Acquisitiveness, Destructiveness 
and Malice.” 

Gain-lust led the van, waving aloft her skeleton 
hands and clutching the empty air, as though she 
would coin it into gold ! gold ! gold ! 

Kevenge followed, keeping time with her own wild, 
hissing chant, and savagely whetting a bloody knife 
on a bloody steel. 

Destructiveness came next, reaching aloft to grasp 
the lightnings, even Jove’s thunderbolts, with which to 
crush the world, that she might gloat and revel o’er its 
ruins. 

Last came Envy and Jealousy coupled together, 
green-eyed gaunt skeletons, creeping serpent-like, 
snarling, snapping, showing their wolf-fanged jaws, 
and darting forth their forked tongues. 

Around and around within his soul, whirled the 
furies, screaming, hissing, clashing, until, from the very 
friction of their movements, his frozen blood actually 
began to flow, and that organ of his physical being, in 
others denominated the heart, began to pulsate per- 
ceptibly, and, wonder of wonders, the clammy, icy 


238 


A FIERCE LEGAL BATTLE. 


surface of his body actually became flushed and 
warm. 

And yet, dare any one assume that Ealph Skinner 
was depraved ? given over beyond recall to 

gain-lust and crime, so that no influences, human or 
divine, could possibly revolutionize his nature ? Had 
light irrevocably vanished, and darkness settled down 
upon his soul, which, not even the glance of the Holy 
of Holies could penetrate or dispel ? If so, then the 
kind Father of All is not all powerful, and there are 
things with Him utterly impossible. Believing that 
God is all powerful, we must also believe that there is 
no such condition as hopeless human depravity. Where 
there is substance, can there be an utter absence of 
everything? and where there is seed can there be such 
condition as hopeless ste7'ility% With seed and soil- 
substance united, may not a gentle rainfall from 
heaven quicken to life and bring forth an abundant 
harvest ? 

Far into the night Ealph Skinner sat alone, utterly 
alone, in his miserable garret, alone in utter darkness, 
shivering over the heat-proof stove in which but a few 
sparks of Are clung to a piece of sulphurous slate and 
struggled for life. Alone he sat in his chair of state, 
muttering, grinning, chuckling, like a very fiend. 
Plotting planning, fighting the battle of the morrow 
and gloating over the field of his conquest, the wreck, 
the ruin and the plunder. 

Finally, just as a snake seeks its den, he crawled up 
under the tattered blankets of his old straw bed, and 
sunk into a fitful slumber, and the furies reveled 
and held high carnival in his heart until the gray light 
of dawn came gliding in through his narrow window. 


A FIERCE LEGAL BATTLE. 239 

Promptly at the very moment of opening, Skinner 
walked into court and sat down at the table with his 
counsel. He looked worn and weary, but the fierce 
glance of his eyes was, if possible, brighter than before, 
aavi his bony, nervous hands crumpled pieces of paper, 
or toyed with pen handles as he flashed inquiring and 
defiant glances here and there — at judge, jury and 
imposing counsel. It is ever thus with evil doers when 
confident of irresistible advantage, but turn the scale 
against them, and the firmest, bravest villain will 
become the cringing, groveling sycophant and plead 
piteously for mercy. 

But Ealph Skinner was confident — nay, certain — 
of victory, for against his strong fortress of apparent 
facts, his opponents had arrayed only shadows flanked 
by eloquence and supported by logic. True, his posi- 
tion had been fiercely and gallantly assailed, but it was 
still impregnable, for the enemy had been compelled 
to resort to gradual approaches and had established but 
one weak parallel. 

While the counsel were discussing some minor 
questions of evidence and their relations to principles 
of law, a boy pushed his way through the crowd and 
delivered to Skinner a crumpled and soiled piece of 
yellow paper on which were scrawled a few characters 
which but imperfectly resembled writing, and down on 
one corner were some figures and a name. 

Skinner rubbed his eyes, held the paper up in the 
light, and endeavored to decipher those mysterious 
characters, but only succeeded in making out that a 
certain person was in the corridor and wished to speak 
with him at once. Instantly the saffron hue of Skinner’s 
face changed to ash color, and the defiant gleam 


240 


A FIERCE LEGAL BATTLE. 


vanished from his eyes, giving place to an expression 
of alarm, and, folding up the paper carefully, he put it 
in his pocket, buttoned up his coat, arose hastily and 
went out. As he closed the door of the court-room, he 
saw, at the further end of the corridor, a form which 
filled him with apprehension, and he muttered to him- 
self : “ What on earth can he want, more money ? 

He’ll be the death of me yet, the vagabond ! If I don’t 
crush him he’ll bleed me to death, but my vengeance 
will be swift and sure after I have satisfied honest 
and pious heirs of Mark Barr3\” 

Seeing Skinner standing in the center of the corridor, 
the man approached, and said : 

“ Compliments o’ th’ mornin’ t’ \"e, Skinner.” 

‘‘ The same in return,” was the tremulous reply. 

“Ye looks well, hope ye be.” 

“ Thank you, quite well.” 

“ How’re ye gittin’ on in there ? ” 

“Splendidly, the case is mine.” 

“Ye’ll be scooped ! ” 

“ What? ” 

“ They’ll clean ye out ! ” 

“There are no indications of such result.” 

“Aren’t they? Well it’ll pan out that a-way, if ye 
don’t loot: sharp.” 

“ What’s the matter now, Snoozer ? ” 

“Matter? Why ye’ve got just one chance t’ win, an 
that means for y’r life, too, for if ye looses th’ -suit, 
they’ll jug ye for forgery an’ keep ye poundin’ rock th’ 
balance o’ y’r days.” 

Skinner laughed — a hoarse, dr}^, hollow laugh, more 
like the hacking cough of a consumptive or the wail of^ 
a lost soul, than an audible expression of delLo-ht. 


A FIERCE LEGAL BATTLE. 


241 


Finally, with a desperate effort, he brought the stam- 
peded wrinkles back to their proper places on his face, 
wiped the water from his eyes, slapped Snoozer play- 
full}^- on the shoulder, and said, with a grin at jocu- 
larity, adopting Snoozer’s slang, “ you’re the rummiest 
old Cove I ever saw, and you like to quiz a fellow just — 
just frighten him a bit. But say, Snoozer, seriously, 
what are you driving at anyway ? ” 

“ This, Skinner, Foxey Griibe ! ” 

As Snoozer hissed forth that name, Skinner reeled 
backward as though a heavy blow had been dealt him, 
clutched the wall for support, and stood a moment 
swaying to and fro and quivering from head to feet. 

“Well, Snoozer, what of Grube?” he inquired, 
hoarsely. 

“ He’ll buzz on ye afore tlT court this mornin’.” 

“ What ? ” 

“Are ye hard o’ bearin’, Skinner ? I say he’ll squeal 
on ye afore th’ court this mornin’, ye’d better bore out 
y’r ears so ye can hear, I don’t like to throw away so 
much talk, it’s hard work.” 

“ But he don’t know any thing that wdll effect the 
case, in the least, that is to my detriment.” 

“ He don’t, eh ? Well now he does.” 

“What?” 

“What! are ye crazy? didn’t ye pass him off t’ the 
notary, as Smith? and aren’t that same notary my 
man, body and soul? I knows all about it, ye see.” 

“ Yes.” 

“Yes? Of course I does. Well, didn’t Grube see 
y’r deeds and read ’em ? ” 

“ He might have done so if he hadn’t been too 
drunk.” 


242 


A FIERCE LEGAL BATTLE. 


“But he weren’t drunk at all !” 

“ He was, for I gave him the liquor and — ” 

drugged it! But it weren’t no go, Skinner, for 
he sloshed it all on th’ floor w’en ye weren’t lookin’ at 
him.” 

Again Skinner staggered backward and quivered as 
before, but almost instantly recovered his self-posses- 
sion, and asked in a husky voice : 

“How do you know that?” 

“ Well, I’ll tell ye. Grube went t’ quiz th’ notary 
th’ other day, so as t’ get him for a witness for th’ 
defense, but ’t weren’t no go, for, as I said before, that 
notary is my meat, belongs t’ me, Skinner, an’ had 
received his lesson from me ’bout that matter, an’ so 
w’en Grube went t’ him, he said — that is, th’ notary 
said — that he (th’ notary) was drunk that night, an’ 
wouldn’t swear t’ nothin’. So Grube went away with- 
out makin’ a pint, and O’Conner rushed right overt’ 
my place t’ tell me all about it ; so that’s how I found 
out that Grube would squeal on ye t’ day.” 

“Is that all the information you have on the sub- 
ject ? ” 

“Ho, I have other, confirmin’ th’ same.” 

“Who gave you the information? What is it?” 

“ That’s none o’ y’r biz. It’s a fact, howsomever, 
as 3^e’ll find out t’ y’r sorrer afore 3^e’re two hours 
older, unless ye can stop it.” 

“ Stop what ? ” 

“ Grube’s mouth, afore he squeals.” 

“ How can I ? ” 

“Let out th’ job t’ me, an’ I’ll plug up his fl3^-trap 
so tight that he’ll never squeal on ye or anybody" else, 
or me name is not Snoozer ! W’at’ll ye give ? ” 


A FIERCE LEGAL BATTLE. 


243 


“ Five hundred dollars.’’ 

“ Done ! It’s a whack ! ” 

“ But how" can you do it? He’s in court now, and 
if, as you say, he is to testify this morning, how can 
you prevent it ? ” 

“ Easy enough, but ye’ll have to do y’r part. Ye 
jest set th’ lawyers to quarrelin’, no matter w’at about, 
an’ keep ’em at ’t all day, an’ if ye can drown his 
squeal till night, why. I’ll manage th’ balance.” 

“How?” 

Snoozer winked his little black eyes, glanced up at 
Skinner sharply, bowed complacently, and with mock 
gravity of manner, drew from his pocket a large bright 
red silk handkerchief, which gave forth a strong odor 
of cologne, wiped his face, took off his tall silk hat and 
brushed down its ruffled surface with his hand, wfflile 
the corners of his mouth gradually crept back toward 
his ears, and the India rubber-like wrinkles of his fore- 
head began to ripple, and his face took on a broad, 
hideous grin. Then he replaced the hat on his head, 
the handkerchief in his pocket, fixed his eyes on Skin- 
ner’s face, threw back his head, drew his finger signifi- 
cantly across his throat, and made a horrible gurgling 
sound with his mouth. 

“ Ah ! I understand,” said Skinner, shivering from 
head to foot, “ yes, yes, I understand.” 

“ Jes so,” replied Snoozer, still grinning fiendishly. 
“ How^ d’ ye like it ?” 

“ To say the least, it would be very effectual, and I 
am not disposed to cavil.” 

“ To w’at?” 

“ Find fault with the remedy.” 

“Oh, talk simple Yankee, if ye please — pure United 


244 


A FIERCE LEGAL BATTLE. 


States, for I can’t Avrestle wi’ these Latin jaw-breakers. 
But ye’d better skip back into court, or they ’ll have 
him up afore the th’ judge, an’ ye ’ll be left.” 

“ True, I must hurry back to perform my part, and 
Snoozer, I shall confidently depend on you to do the 
rest,” so saying, Skinner extended his hand to Snoozer, 
and the infamous league was ratified. Then Skinner 
turned to enter the court-room but Snoozer stopped 
him with, 

‘‘ I never keeps open accounts, Skinner.” 

‘‘What ?” 

“ I don’t do sich biz on tick.” 

“ Oh, you want the pay in advance ?” 

“Ye were born a guesser, Skinner.” 

“ Well, but I haven’t it with me.” 

“ After court’ll do.” 

“ I’ll send you a check for the amount.” 

“ Ke-e-rect, Skinner, but don’t forget it, for Snoozer 
won’t be trifled with,” and so they parted. 

On entering the court-room, Skinner held a brief 
but earnest consultation with his attorneys, and soon 
thereafter the battle of legal technicalities began. 
Fiercely it raged, now high, now low, here and there, 
until judge and jury became weary and the spectators’ 
benches vacant. And so the hours dragged wearily 
along until night shades began to gather, when the 
weary judge adjourned court for the day, and Skinner 
had attained his object. 


CHAPTEE XIX. 


CKUISE OF A HUMAN ]iODY AMIU FLOATING ICE. 

As Foxey Grube left the court-room, where he had 
remained all day, expecting momentarily to be called 
to the witness-stand, a lad approached and delivered 
to him a dainty, perfumed letter. At first glance 
Grube recognized the hand-writing on the envelope as 
that of a female acquaintance, quite a belle of her 
peculiar social caste. She was beautiful so far as that 
term may qualify grace and poetry of motion, exquis- 
ite mold of form and features. Besides physical 
beauties and attractions, she possessed a fine mental 
organization, cultivated and refined to the last degree, 
a,nd therefore she was a beautiful danger, a subtle, 
charming, Avooing peril. 

Doubtless the sunlight of the world’s first morning 
lighted up those vast mountains of ice near the south 
pole, just as to-day ; only they have grown as the ages 
have floated over them, crowning their summits Avith 
the snoAvs of countless Avinters — just as the head of 
Father Time has been Avhitened, for every Avave which 
leaps upon them leaves some of itself clinging there, 
in solid, glittering masses. They tower heavenward, 
brilliant, flashing, vast mountains of light, and seem to 
stand still in mid-ocean. Their bases are continually 
Avashed by rushing cross-currents, and cut by awTul 
whirlpools, and the ocean around them is alternately 
broken and lifted by aAvful storms, or leveled and held 
down by equally dangerous calms. 

245 


246 CRUISE AMID FLOATING ICE. 

When the sea seems smooth as glass, and sunlight 
glitters on the crystal surface of those mountain bergs, 
the navigator finds his ship, with drooping sails, caught 
in a resistless current and drifting onward steadily — 
surely toward the whirlpools and the mountains of 
ice. In vain he listens for even the faintest sigh of a 
breeze — in vain he scans the horizon for even the 
shadow of a cloud-line, ISTature’s signal of advancing 
wind. On, on, speeds the ship into the whirlpools, into 
the cross-currents, then dashes upon the mountain 
bergs and settles down into unfathomable depths. 

And that brilliant queen of the upper circle on the 
upper crust of immoral society was quite as dangerous 
to young and inexperienced navigators on life’s ocean 
immediately surrounding her as are the mountain 
bergs in the Antarctic Ocean to navigators who ven- 
ture near them at any time. She dwelt in perpetual 
calm, and about her were whirlpools and cross-currents, 
always setting toward ruin and death. 

Foxey Grube was an ardent admirer of this fickle 
queen of hearts, and because she smiled upon him, 
flattered, dallied and fawned over him, he believed the 
false words of her faithless lips, and esteemed himself 
blessed by her love. Therefore, when he recognized 
her hand-writing on the envelope, his heart began to 
flutter and dance a hornpipe to the music of tingling 
nerves. His hand found its way into his pocket, and 
some of his money into the boy’s hand, and then Grube 
broke the seal and perused the missive. “ Tell her I 
Avillgoat ten o’clock,” said Grube to the boy, who 
bowed and hurried away, as did Grube toward his 
lodgings, but he did not imagine that at that moment 


CKUISE AMID FLOATING ICE. 247 

Michael Snoozersaid good evening, as he bowed himself 
from the presence of Miriam Swan. 

Eain was falling in a steady pour that dismal night, 
and the sewers were overflowed and streets flooded. 
The frost-locked river, swollen by the flood, broke its 
fetters and great masses of ice floated down and out to 
the lake. 

While the sound of the great bells with clang and 
boom swept through the dense fog and darkness which 
enveloped the city, proclaiming the hour of nine, a man 
wrapped in a great coat and carrying a large umbrella 
picked his way carefully along the drenched and slip- 
pery pavement of State street. The streets were 
deserted and silent, and he could hear only the monoton- 
ous pour of rain, the roaring of sewers and the splash- 
ing water spouts, yet frequently he paused, looked 
back and listened. Why, he knew not, for certainly he 
was not waiting for anybody, had no appointment 
there out in the darkness and storm. Why, then, did 
he pause and listen? Pat! pat! tramp! tramp! came 
footsteps on the pavement, but he could discern no 
human form approaching. He raised his hand to his 
forehead to shade his eyes from the glaring light of the 
street lamp across the way, and gazed earnestly up 
the street through the still gathering darkness. Were 
the grim wraiths of danger creeping after him, shading 
his vision, dimming his sight? or were those phantom 
forms which pursued him, flitting stealthily by street 
lamps coming out of darkness into the light, and again 
disappearing in the darkness ? 

Suddenly the sound of approaching footsteps ceased, 
and after listening a few moments and hearing nothing 
more — nothing save the pouring rain and rushing 


248 


CRUISE AMID FLOATING ICE. 


flood, he again went forward, picking his way cautiously 
as before. His curiosity, which bordered on apprehen- 
sion, seemed to have been partially satisfied, as he kept 
straight on and quickened his pace. When he had 
traveled a square, two men came stealthily down the 
street and halted in the light of the street lamp, where 
he had paused to listen. 

‘‘ It’s th’ game we’re on track of, an’ he smells 
danger, I reckon, from th’ way he stops ^an’ listens,” 
said one. 

Yes, an’ we’ll have t’ take him on th’ fly,” replied 
the other. 

“ How?” 

‘‘ He ’s got t’ cross th’ bridge, an’ we’ll have t’ trap 
him there. He’s suspicious an’ on his guard ; it’s th’ 
only show ! ” 

“ Aye — aye, and we’d better bp about it, or he ’ll slip 
us yet,” and so they crept almost noiselessly after the 
man whose footsteps were sounding more indistinct 
momentarily. 

“It’s a dismal night,” muttered the man with the 
umbrella, as he waded through the slush on a crossing, 
“ and the man who faces suck a furious storm as this 
deserves some credit if not reward. Let me see,” he 
continued, reflectively, pausing on the street corner, 
“ let me see now — oh yes, I shall have to go over the 
Hush street bridge,” and he passed on into the darkness 
toward the river. 

The two men had crept along the street after him 
and stood in the deeper darkness of an awning across 
the way watching his movements as he halted irres- 
olutely under the light of the street lamp on the 
corner, and so near were they that they could see even 


CRUISE AMID ,ELO A TING ICE. 


249 


his face, and whispered congratulations passed between 
them. As the man with the umbrella passed on, the 
two men stood very close together, conversing in 
whispers barely audible to themselves, accompanied by 
violent gestures. They w^ere evidently at variance 
in reference to some important matter in which the 
man who had just gone from the opposite corner 
toward the river seemed to figure conspicuously, “ Slip 
a knife into him,” said one. 

“An’ stretch hemp for y’r pains,” was the reply. 

“ Well, then, what shall we do ? Talk fast.” 

Jest w’at I said at first. It’s th’ only safe plan.” 

“Safe! y’rallers talkin’ ’bout plans. Won’t he 
screech an ’rouse th’ perliece ? ” 

“’Spose he does, they won’t find anybody. ’They’ll 
be slow ’bout cornin’ sich a night. Th’ pigs don’t 
hang out much, ye know,” and so the argument waxed 
warm, while the man with the umbrella was walking 
slowly toward the river. Soon, however, the men 
stole forth from under the awning and went for- 
ward, turning into a street running parallel with the 
one leading to the bridge. They ran very fast, the 
pitchy darkness between street lamps, the slippery 
pavements, possible obstructions, and cellar ways 
carelessly left open, notwithstanding. They ran two 
squares at high rate of speed, turned west one square 
and came to the bridge where one halted and stepped 
back into a deep, dark doorway, while the other 
passed quickly over to the other side of the river. 

A few minutes later, the man with the umbrella 
came slowly, carefully down the street toward the 
bridge, whistling a love tune, to which he kept exact 
time with his b»ot-heels on the pavement. As he 


250 


CRUJSE AMID FLOATING ICE. 


walked up the foot-way of the bridge, he observed that 
there were no lights at either end. He had noticed 
them burning brightly as he approached the bridge 
when two squares distant, but subsequently he was 
doing some very hard thinking and did not notice the 
lights disappear, leaving the bridge in intense darkness. 

Singular,” he muttered, as he ascended the foot-way 
and passed slowly along. “It is singular, indeed, 
I have never known that to happen before, all go out 
at once. Seems to me the police ought to be on 
hand to attend to such matters, but the miserable 
sneaks are always skulking, never where most needed. 
I’ll venture to say that every mother’s son of them in 
this vicinity can be found by warm fires in bagnios. 
Confound them.” 

At that moment a carriage passed him, going in the 
opposite direction, stopped on the bridge, and the 
driver got down from his seat, ostensibly to fix the 
liarness of the off horse. He cursed vehemently, 
tugged away at a buckle, and struck the impatient 
horse with a strap. The man with the umbrella paused, 
turned around and looked back, but he could only dis- 
cover the faint outline of carriage and horses, and did 
not see the carriage door open and two men creep 
stealthily therefrom. He could neither hear nor seethe 
man who approached him on tip-toe from the direction 
in which he was going ; nor the man who had slipped 
from the dark door-way, just after he had passed, and 
followed with cat-like tread. As the driver of the 
carriage climbed up to his seat, the man with the 
umbrella passed beyond the center of the bridge, 
paused, leaned over the railing and looked down on the 
swollen river with its fleet of ice blocks drifting slowly 


CRUISE AMID FLOATING ICE. 


251 


downward toward the lake. He could barely discern 
the moving mass on the deep, turbid water, and the 
rain dashed in his face under the umbrella. “We will 
have a clear open harbor from here outward before 
morning.” he said, and made a movement to pass on, 
when, suddenly, he was seized by several quick and 
powerful hands, and hurled headlong from the bridge. 

A wild shriek of horror rang out over the ice field, 
and was borne back in mocking echoes from the fronts 
of the tall buildings on either wharf, and then floated 
away on the storm, if heard by human ears, unheeded. 

“ He’s done for, Snoozer,” whispered a voice on the 
bridge. 

“ Ye bet he is. Peel Eye,” was the low, hissing re- 
sponse, and then the four men crept into the carriage, 
and were driven rapidly away toward the Sands. 

Down, down, sank the body in the raging flood, 
down under the drifting ice, to the very bottom of the 
river. 

Up, up, up, and the body sprang above the surface, 
spurting streams of water from mouth and nose. 

A horrible wail of despair came from the bosom of 
the river, and again it was laughed back and forth from 
the buildings on either wharf, and borne away by the 
complaining wind. Then came a fierce struggle for 
life; a desperate clutching of hands on the smooth 
surface of floating ice, a falling backward and an 
agonizing struggle of a human form in the water. 

Moments were ages to that brave soul, who would 
not yield nor obey the call of death. Moments multi- 
plied, and the chilled blood flowed sluggishly in his 
veins, but he held bravely up, fighting back despair. 

Gradually terror loosened its hold upon him, and 


252 CRUISE AMID FLOATING ICE. 

reason resumed her sway. The first awful shock had 
unmanned him, and for the moment he was unable to 
comprehend his situation ; his animal instinct of self- 
preservation entirely controlled him, and he struggled 
blindly, unreason ingly. As he became calm, and began 
to think rationally, he realized the utter impossibility 
of climbing on the ice by simply clutching its smooth 
surface, and he instantly desisted and began to swim, 
pushing his way into clear water and working gradu- 
ally toward the north wharf. He had passed down 
several squares, had reached a point where there was 
quite a rapid movement of the water, which, aided by 
the strong wind, was rapidly drifting the ice into the 
outer harbor. As he floated on in the darkness and 
storm, he could see the faint glimmer of thousands of 
lights on either hand, just discernible through the thick 
fog and darkness, yet he felt cheered by their silent 
assurance, that just there, only a little way, was safety 
and comfort. Finally he drifted close to the north 
wharf, could almost reach the piles with his hands, 
only a narrow margin of ice, which still clung to them, 
intervened between him and deliverance, but, alas, he 
could not break through nor climb upon it, and so 
drifted on and out further into the stream. Suddenly 
a light flashed out from the wharf but a hundred yards 
distant, and his heart gave a great throb, sending a 
thrill of joy through his whole being. Deliverance had 
come ; surely he would now be heard, and, clutching 
the ice with one hand, he waved the other above his 
head and — alas ! his voice was gone, and his lips only 
uttered in husky whispers, “ Help ! help ! help ! ” Only 
then did he realize how very near he was to the end of 
the horrible struggle, and he moaned and wept. 


CRUISE AMID FLOATING ICE. 


253 


He could hear the steady and awful roar and thud of 
the lake waves against the piers and breakwater. He 
could feel the lake swell and hear the grinding and 
boom of breaking ice as it went beyond the harbor 
line and was lifted and thrown back by the lofty 
waves as they thundered shoreward. He knew that 
he could not pass that line and survive. He saw the 
lights of the city growing more indistinct, until, one 
by one, they disappeared, and he floated on in dark- 
ness. 

Suddenly, far out in the lake, low down to the hori- 
zon, a brilliant light came flashing through the fog 
over the water. At first it seemed but a bright star, 
and he gazed in wonder. Storm clouds drifted across 
the sky. He could not see them, but knew they were 
there, for the rain dashed in his face. How then could 
it be a star? Were the clouds above and behind it? 
Wonder of wonders! Was it traveling toward the 
earth ? Brighter and brighter, larger and larger, until 
it became as the moon at full, casting a flood of brill- 
iant light like a pavement of gold on the water. 

Ah ! he had solved the mystery. It was not a falling 
world nor the moon, but the harbor’s beacon lights! 
He was fast drifting to the outer line, and he felt a 
thrill of horror through his whole being. 

He had been clinging to something — he knew not 
what ; some huge object drifting by, grinding its way 
through the ice, something that towered above him 
and seemed to move by its own volition. The part to 
which he clung was flat and smooth and frequently 
twisted around, changing position, but he did not care 
to investigate. It bouyed him up, saved him for the 
moment, it was quite enough. 


254 


CRUISE AMID FLOATING ICE. 


Boom ! boom ! crash ! crash ! It was the thunder of 
waves, and the breaking of ice at the outer harbor line ; 
he was drifting, drifting on, on to death. Brighter and 
brighter gleamed the light-house signal, and the ship- 
ping in the offing grew less and less. Ah ! what was 
that blinding flash ? Lightning. What sounds were 
those which sent the sluggish blood rushing through 
his veins and brought a warm glow on his face. lie 
tried to shout, but only a gurgling sound came from 
his lips. He tried to speak, but only a faint whisper came 
— “ Help ! help ! help ! ! for God’s sake, help !” A horri- 
ble groan escaped him ; it was louder than the howling 
of the storm, and he shuddered as it rang in his ears. 

‘‘Hark! Mike,” said a frightened voice very near, 
“ what was that sound.” 

“Good Lord, what was it? Listen!” was the reply. 

Again that horrible groan rang out, louder than 
before, and immediatel}^ there were quick footsteps, and 
some one exclaimed, “Merciful heaven 1 It is a human 
in the river. Show a light here, quick! My God, 
show a light! Bring the grappling hooks, quick — 
quick 1” and a brilliant flood of light swept down from 
the deck of a vessel to the rudder of which clung that 
limp liuman form, whose ghastly face was upward 
turned and white as marble. 

Three men leaned over the gunwale of the vessel, 
one holding out a large reflecting ship lantern and the 
other two working in frantic haste with a line. 
“Clang! clang! Jingle, jingle!” a pair of grappling 
hooks were lowered over the side of the vessel, the man 
in the water felt them fasten in his clothing, released 
his hold on the rudder, and then as he was lifted from 
the water, the light above him seemed to flash and 


CRUISE AMID FLOATING ICE. 


255 


sparkle, the ropes, spars and masts of the vessel began 
to whirl and dart upward, a film came on his eyes and 
— he knew no more. 

“Up! up, lads! Hi! hi! easy-a-e-easy, now! so! 
grab him now, there, good !” and the limp human form 
was lifted carefully over the gunwale, carried down 
into the cabin and laid on a bunk by the hot stove. 

“Bring that light here, Mike,” commanded the 
Captain, as he bent over the insensible form, “bring 
some whisky here. Cook, quick! quick! Merciful 
heaven,” he exclaimed, as the light shone full on the 
face of the man, “ why, as I live ! Why — may I be 
blown to Mackinaw in a minute, if it aren’t Foxey 
GrubeP 


CIIAPTEE XX. 


MORE KNOTS UNTIED IN THE TANGLED SKEIN. 

Ealpli Skinner appeared in court the morning of 
the fifth day of the trial, looking, if possible, more 
weary and careworn than on the previous day, but the 
defiant gleam in his eyes had lost none of its repul- 
siveness, and his words and attitudes evinced a degree 
of confidence amounting to insolence. As usual, he 
sat with his attorneys, with whom he frequently con- 
versed in low tones as the trial of his case proceeded. 
At first there were some discussions and legal hair split- 
tings between counsel, some rulings by the court in 
reference to same, and then the case proceeded on the 
main issues. Then Judge Dudley arose and addressed 
the judge, May it please the court, I had intended 
to introduce for the defense this morning a certain wit- 
ness, whose testimony I regard as of vital importance. 
The witness was in attendance all day yesterday and 
prepared to testify, but this morning can not be found, 
and I regret to announce my utter inability to proceed 
with the case without his evidence. I trust that the 
witness, Edward Grube, will put in an appearance yet 
this morning or during the day — in which event 1 will 
be prepared to continue the case. I move that further 
proceedings be postponed until the witness can be 
brought into court.” The opposing counsel offered 
some frivolous objections to postponement, but the 
court overruled all objections, and made an order in 
compliance with the motion. 

256 


MORE KNOTS UNTIED. 


257 


Snoozer sat on one of the front benches, and while 
counsel were wrangling over the motion, Skinner cast 
toward him significant glances, and, in return, Snoozer 
leered and winked his little vicious black eyes in their 
almond shaped sockets. The two worthies had met in 
the corridor, just previous to opening of court, and, 
behind a remote and obscure angle, had held a brief, 
earnest conversation. Therefore, when Skinner entered 
the court-room, he felt jubilant, and Snoozer, who 
entered soon after, was in excellent humor. However, 
as the court was about to call another case, quite a sen 
sation was created by the entrance of two officers, one 
of whom advanced to Skinner, and the other to 
Snoozer, and read to them in low tones, warrants of 
arrest sworn out at the instance of Judge Dudley, in 
which the former was charged with forgery, and the 
latter accessory to the murder of Mark Barry. The 
former on testimony of Edward Grube and Patrick 
O’Conner, and the latter on evidence of Sandy Burns 
(who, having been arrested, had turned State’s evi- 
dence) and Leo Cassell. Skinner seemed dazed, utterly 
crushed, and he cowered down in his chair with expres- 
sionless eyes, ash-colored face and quivering form. 
The name of Pat O’Conner, the notary, as a witness 
against him thrilled him with dreadful forebodings, and ' 
his guilty conscience lashed him into consummate cowar- 
dice. lie arose feebly from his chair, and with mute 
submission followed the officer from the room, but 
Snoozer professed righteous indignation in loud tones, 
and offered objections in the way of jJiysical resistance. 
However, the ollicei^ was no trifler, and by permission 
of the court, Snoozer was dragged bodily from the 
•oom bv four strong, determined men and thrust into a 


MORE KNOTS UNTIED. 


258 

carriage where Skinner had been safely placed. 
Guarded by two police officers, who also sat in the car- 
riage, the two worthies were driven to the magistrate’s 
office and immediately arraigned on the charges men- 
tioned in the warrants. 

Skinner’s counsel had followed, as had also Judge 
Dudley, and entered the office together in pleasant 
conversation, a few minutes after the arrival of the 
prisoners. The witnesses were all present except 
Foxey Grube, and a preliminary examination was held, 
which continued all day, resulting in the commitment 
of the prisoners and their cases being certified to the 
criminal court, pending the action of the grand jury. 
Counsel for defense made strenuous efforts to secure 
the release of the prisoners, but the magistrate, who 
was a man of strong will and prejudices, absolutely re- 
fused all bail, and the infamous conspirators were 
hurried away in the prisoners^ van to the city prison, 
and lodged in cells behind strong bolts and iron bars. 
Counsel for defense were indignant, but the magistrate 
only smiled grimly and said, “ Gentlemen, we intend to 
destroy this infamous gang of thieves and murderers, 
even though we may be compelled to strain a point of 
law to do it. You certainly have your legal recourse, 
and if, in the discharge of my duties, as I conceive ' 
them, I deprive your clients of any rights under the 
law, a higher court will not fail to modify or reverse 
my action.” 

Judge Dudley succeeded in having the prisoners 
placed in separate cells, and in different ])arts of the 
building. It was merely a precaution against intrigue 
and to prevent anything like concert of action for 
escape. He well knew the desperate character of the 


More knots Untied. 


259 


men Avitli Avhoin lie liad to deal, knew that they would 
resort to any means, even murder, to escape the grasp 
of the law, and therefore determined that nothing 
should be neglected — no measures of prosecution or pre- 
caution. 

When the door of his cell closed behind him, and 
Kalph Skinner was alone in the horrible gloom of 
twilight, he stood gazing out of the narrow window 
over the house-tops, and away to the banks of dull 
leaden storm-clouds drifting across the sky. A feeling 
of utter desolation and despair gradually crept over 
him while he gazed, and, for the first time in his 
wicked, selfish life, he felt utterly alone in the great 
world. He felt utterly abandoned and helpless, real- 
ized keenly the horrors of his situation, and yearned 
for human associations and sympath\^ Was he wholly 
abandoned by the Almighty — hopelessly depraved ? 
He leaned on the window-sill, still gazing upward 
through the gathering gloom, and watched the brew- 
ing storm in the heavens, and, relapsing into his deeply- 
worn rut of evil tendencies, he gazed with a kind of 
vicious interest. It was a scene in perfect harmony 
with the continual raging and wild orgies of the furies 
of passion holding high carnival in his soul, and, for a 
time, he seemed to forget the horrors of his situation, 
and to gloat over the tumult of elements as a vulture 
over the field of battle. 

Lower and lower drooped the veil of night, deeper 
and darker grew the shadows in the angles of build 
ings, louder and louder moaned the wind around the 
gables of the tall roofs — pit-pat, patter-patter, rush! 
and a great dash of rain struck him in the face, but he 
moved not. The tall trees along the pavements, swayed 


26 o 


MORE KNOTS UNTIED. 


violently by the wind, tossed their mighty arm alofts 
and became giant specters joining in a wild dance, and 
beckoning him to break the bars of his prison cell, rush 
forth and be free. The wheeling clouds became gro- 
tesque legions hurrying forward to battle, and the 
rattling thunder and blinding lightning flashes were 
discharges of their artillerj^ 

Suddenly, out flashed light after light along the 
streets, from windows of stores and dwellings, and 
street lamps began to glimmer in long rows, even to 
the utmost reach of his vision. 

He turned and looked back into his cell. Only a 
darkness that he could feel was there, for he could dis- 
tinguish no object — not even his hard bunk close by 
his side. Again, and with a shudder, he looked out 
and up toward the sky, but a pitch}’- darkness had 
fallen on the earth, and even the rushing, wheeling 
sto.m clouds were obscured. Still he continued to 
gaze out into the black night, and listened to the pour- 
ing rain, for he experienced a fierce satisfaction in the 
wild tumult of elements and in gazing into the blank 
darkness. His soul was in a night of horror and woe. 
Eegret and remorse gnawed and scourged him, and 
grim despair usurped the place of hope. 

Oh God! ” he murmured, if indeed Thou art, how 
thoroughly canst Thou avenge Thy violated laws. 
Truly ‘the way the transgressor is hard,’ and death 
the sure reward of the evil doer. Oh, what a misspent 
life 1 How I have wandered ever in darkness, when 
light — beautiful joyous light was all around me. How 
I have crushed every fair form and spirit which came 
to love and comfort me, and how I have been -wrapped 
UD in self, petrified by sin and influenced only the 


MORE KNOTS UNTIED. 


261 


accursed lust for gain. Oh, my sister, how I blighted 
your sweet young life to further luy own wicked, selfish 
ends, and how cruelly I drove you forth into the cold, 
wicked, selfish world, to starve and die, and at last to 
blacken the dark crime, how I abused and starved your 
child and drove him forth, also to die. Oh, God! Death! 
death! Horrible — Oh horrible.” Thus the self-accuser 
with sighs, moans and tears clung to the iron bar^ of 
his prison cell and told his crimes and woes to the 
darkness and storm. 

And so the night advanced with steady, noiseless 
tread, until the great bells of the city solemly pro. 
claimed the hour of midnight. So preoccupied had he 
been with his own bitter, despairing thoughts, that he 
had previously failed to hear the bells, as they regularly 
told the hour. But at that moment the storm lulled, 
for a sudden calm seemed to have grasped and throttled 
the tempest, and through the stillness came the sudden 
clang! clung — dong! of the great bells. The sound 
startled him, and he retreated back into his cell in terror. 
The bells seemed like giant voices calling out to him 
through the night, in tones of thundering exultation. 
Doomed! doomed! doomed!” 

Just over the way was a tall, old-fashioned residence, 
and as the wretched prisoner crept back to the window 
and strained his eyes in endeavors to penetrate the 
darkness, the square, high roof of the building became 
a gigantic human head. The iron railing surrounding 
the square platform on top was a crown, the two 
dormer windows on the roof were eyes, the portico 
over tne door a story lower down was a nose, and the 
large, deep doorway on the ground floor a huge mouth, 
puckered scornfully. There were faint gleams of light 


262 


MORE K\\OTS untied. 


in the dormer windows (doubtless a student burning 
the midnight oil) and they seemed as eyes flashing 
defiance. “ Doomed ! doomed ! doomed ! ’’ pealed the 
bells, and the giant head seemed moving toward him. 
There was a loose shutter on the building and a water- 
spout of tin, partly broken down, at one corner, and 
these the wind rattled violently, sounding to him like 
the grinding of giant teeth. 

Doomed ! doomed ! doomed ! ’’ tolled the bells, 
and he cowered back from the window in horror. 
Doomed ! He could no longer listen to that terrible 
voice; he would not hear it, the sound would drive him 
mad, and, crowding the ends of his finger into his ears, 
he sank down on his hard bunk and wept. 

An hour he lay thus moaning and weeping — an 
hour — and the bells chimed one ! Instantly he sprang 
to his feet, even while the solemn vibrations trembled 
on the night, rushed to the window, hissing horrible 
imprecations, thrust his clenched hand between the 
iron bars out into the storm, raised it aloft as he 
would strike an actual foe, and then his voice rang out 
as clear as bugle notes, “You lie! curse you, you lie! 
1 am not doomed. I’ll live to drag you from your 
place and sink you in the lake, curse you ! Curses on 
those who made you! Curses on the men who bought 
you, and double — aye, a million curses on those who 
placed you there to sound my death-knell ere I die! 
They placed you there — idiots, to summon fools to 
worship. Worship! Ha-ha-ha! Worship what? 
God ! Ha-ha-ha ! God ! Fie on such miserable super- 
stition ! God ? Out on such vile hypocrisy ! God ! 
Fools, dolts, liars; there is no God; you know there is 
no God ! ” He clutched the iron bars with his skeleton- 


MORE A'N-OTS UNTIED. 263 

like hands, wrenched them with all his strength, and 
rattled them furiously in their sockets ; gnawed them 
with his teeth like an angry wild beast in its cage, and 
howled like a maniac. Was he mad ? 

The rain dashed into his face and the wind swept 
back his long white hair from his forehead, over which 
it had fallen, and he clung there to the iron bars, weep- 
ing, howling and blaspheming, until the bells tolled 
two! Then again he gave way to a fierce storm of 
passion, rattled and gnawed the iron bars, beat his 
head against them, until the blood trickled down over 
his ghastly face, and clung in clotted masses to his 
clothing. 

Suddenly he became still. It was the calmness of 
exhaustion, and he sank downward, still clinging to the 
iron bars. He quivered and gasped, muttered excla- 
mations of horror, and peered over the window-sill out 
into the darkness. ‘"It is coming ! I must hide — ah, 
ah! it is coming — I must hide, hide, but oh! Where is 
the floor? It has fallen into the cellar ! Merciful — ’’ 
His voice was gone, and he clung a moment, settling 
downward, his body swaying to and fro, and then his 
grasp loosened, and he fell backward on the floor in a 
dead swoon. 

The rain dashed in at the window and fell upon 
him, and as the minutes glided by, he lay still and 
unconscious, until the bells chimed three ! At the first 
stroke he moved, sat up and listened, grinding his teeth 
together, and clenching his hands until the long, sharp 
finger nails were buried deep into their palms. At the 
second stroke he struggled to his feet, again grasped 
the iron bars, and kissed horrible oaths in hoarse whis- 
pers, while he shook his clenched right hand at the 


264 


MORE KNOTS UNTIED. 


giant face across the way. At the third stroke his 
humor changed, and he began to whisper meaningless 
words. “Ila-ha!” he said, “what a joke it would 
be on old Dudley. Forty-five millions of miles to the 
new world, yes, I’ll build one, a machine that will fly 
there, one big enough to hold and carry all my houses 
and lots and money, and I’ll just fly away from this 
tangle and leave old Dudley to pay the costs. Ila-ha- 
ha!” and his shrill, maniac laugh rang out, echoed 
through the prison corridor, and floated out of his win- 
dow, and away on the storm. “ I must do it to-night,” he 
continued, groping around his cell and feeling along the 
bare walls with his hands. “ Yes, I must do it to-night, 
for to-morrow will be too late. I can fl}^ away in the 
darkness, and nobody will know vdiere lliam gone. Ah, 
but I have no material with which to build it, only an 
iron bedstead and a few blankets, but I can sew them 
together and make a balloon, and inflate it with my 
breath, and then I can make myself small enough to 
slip between the iron bars over the windows, and then, 
as I sail away, I can laugh the world to scorn. Ha- 
ha-ha ! that is the plan, and I’ll do it.” 

Approaching the bed, he dragged from it two woolen 
blankets, tied the four corners together, so as to form a 
kind of sack of each, fastened them together with a 
strip which he tore from the remaining blanket, and 
then removed all his clothing except his shirt hnd 
drawers. Then, grasping the sacks in one hand, he 
approached the window, thrust out his disengaged arm 
and made a desperate effort to crawl between the bars, 
but he only tore his clothes and bruised his flesh. 
Finally he seemed to realize the fruitlessncss of the 
endeavor, and his humor changed. 


MORE KNOTS UNTIED. 265 

Turning away from the window, he stood by the 
door, reached his hand up to the transom and felt the 
iron bars fastened over it. ‘‘ Yes, that is the plan,” he 
muttered, “that is the plan. Church people say that 
man has a soul, and that it is thinner and lighter than 
air. They say that when it is disembodied it can go 
anywhere and that not even prison bars can detain it. 
Ha-ha-ha! What need have I fora balloon when I 
can make of myself one, and float away from all my 
troubles. Ha-ha-ha ! That’ll be a good joke on old 
Dudley, and he’ll have to pay all the costs. Ha-ha! 
I’ll do it.” Then he felt around until he found the 
stool, put it down by the door, went to the bed, tore a 
long wide strip from a blanket, felt along the wall 
until he found the door again, stepped up on the stool, 
made a slipping noose at the end of the strip of 
blanket, 2)ut it around his neck and drew it tight, plac- 
ing the knot behind his left ear. Then he reached up 
and tied the other end of the blanket-strip to an iron 
bar over the transom, tried the knot with his weight 
holding on with his hands. 

“It will do,” he muttered in a hoarse whisper, “it 
will do the work, and now, ha-ha! Justice Morgan 
and your Honor, Judge Dudley, I bid you, gentlemen, 
a very good morning. Ha-ha-ha! Curse you, curses 
on you, bloody hounds of the law, ever meddling with 
people’s gains, curse you again, ah curse — ” At that 
moment the bells began to toll the hour, and with a 
hissing shout of defiance and a horrid curse upon his 
lips, he stepped from the stool, which fell over on the 
floor, and his bod}^ swung around in circles dangling in 
the air. II is feet knocked against the door, and his 
hands clutched the piece of blanket by which he was 


266 


MORE KNOTS UNTIED. 


suspended, and a horrible, sickening struggle ensued. 
Finally the hands ceased to grasp, the limbs straight- 
ened downward, a convulsive tremor shook the body, a 
gurgling sound came from the throat and silence again 
brooded in the cold, dark prison cell. 

The prison watchman, as he made his morning round, 
discovered a ghastly, horrible form suspended by the 
neck, in a certain cell, and the same day a coffin was 
taken to the jail, a limp human form placed into it, and 
hurried away to be hidden forever from mortal eyes, in 
the bosom of mother earth. Not a tear was shed nor a 
regretful word spoken as the coffin was lowered into 
the grave, and amid rude jests and scornful comments, 
the wet earth was heaped above it, and Kalph Skinner 
Avas left alone to sleep till judgment. 


CHAPTER XXL 


A CnARilTXG PRACTICAL ILLTJSTRATIOX OF DOMESTIC 
HAPPINESS. 

Soft balmy breezes from the south came ■wooing the 
proud and beautiful ‘‘Queen of the West,” one lovely 
evening. They sighed and kissed her, and sang sweet 
love songs, and she sparkled and smiled under a cloudless 
sky. In the twilight of that beautiful evening, while 
the night was yet new and the day was dying, Rudolph 
Merry fellow was hurrying along the street toward 
home, his little earthly paradise, yearning for the warm 
kisses and sweet welcome of his charming, busy, faith- 
ful little wife. He was sad — he Avas troubled. Ilis 
business had all gone wrong that day, and he floundered 
helplessly in an ocean of perplexity. The failure of a 
business firm in an eastern city Avith which he Avas 
intimately associated, had caused him serious financial 
embarrassment, and financial ruin seemed inevitable. 
He Avas essentially a merry felloAv by nature as Avell as 
name, and his spirits, usually buoyant and exuberant in 
the highest degree, but that day ice had drifted into 
the smooth, Avarm current of his life, and dark-broAved 
gloomy foreboding, had glided into, and usurped the 
place of sAveet faced, joyous hope. 

“ I’ll not tell her,” he said, as he Avalked slowly along 
tli« street. “I haven’t the heart to tell her. It is 
enough for me, a great coarse bear to endure the 
tortures of the blue devil Avithout extending the 
invitation to his Satanic Majesty to occupy a place at 


268 


DOMESTIC IIArPIXESS. 


iTi y fireside. No, I won’t tell her, for the little rosebud 
would droop like an autumn flower touched by frost. 
I’m strong, and can endure any amount of hacking 
without experiencing any very serious results, and I’ll 
just pocket the whole business and keep it all to my- 
self. I never promised to tell her about my business 
misfortunes, although when I have a run of good luck, 
and pile up handsome gains, there is a sort of sweet satis- 
faction in telling her of it, she looks so lovel}^ and 
seems so very happy, doubtless only because it makes 
me happy to be successful. God bless her ! Now, I’ll 
not even lisp a word of it, but will draw up my droop- 
ing underlip, drive away the frowns and meet her as 
usual, just as though I have made instead of lost a cool 
five thousand to-day. I’ll laugh and frolic with her 
and play wild pranks with baby, and — ”he had ascended 
the front steps of his home, and put out his hand tg 
grasp the knob of the door, when it opened suddenly, 
and his dolly-dimple clasped her arms around his 
neck, and almost smothered him with kisses. 

‘‘Why, dear, you are late to-night,’’ she^aid, “I had 
just about decided to put on my hat and go for you.” 

“ Go for me he replied, as he stooped to kiss her. 
“Go for me? in what way? It appears that you are 
going for me now pretty effectually.” 

“And who has a better right, Dolphy?” she 
responded, laughingly, as she assisted him to remove his 
linen duster. “Who has a better right than 3^our 
Dollie, your own wife? Just so I don’t pull your hair 
too hard, you can’t afford to lose any of that, you 
know.” 

“ I should say not,” he replied, as he passed into 
the cozy sitting-room, “I’m getting barefooted up 


DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 


269 


there (rubbing the crown of his head), and doubtless, 
people already imagine that you are rather tyrannical. 
How’s the cub ? (leaning over the sleeping babe in its 
crib), he looks happy and comfortable.” 

“ Oh, he’s well and pleasant as usual, the sweetest, 
dearest, little darling in the world, isn't he Dolphy ?” 
and she put her dimpled hand on his great broad 
shoulder, and her head down close by his just above 
the face of the sleeping babe. It was a beautiful pict- 
ure. A moment they stood thus, and then she glanced 
around into his face. 

“ My ! Why dear !” she said, hastily, pressing closer 
to him while the hand on his shoulder crept around his 
neck, “Wh}^, you are so pale, and look so sad. What 
has happened ? Are you ill dear ?” 

Now; there you are again,” he said, laughingly, as 
he sat down by the open window, and drew her down 
on the hassock by his side. “ There you are, studying 
the lines of my face, noting the color and expression, 
and taking alarm if I don’t look just so. Don’t worry, 
little bird, I’m all right, only a trifle hungry, that’s 
all.” “ Is that aZZ,” she enquired, emphasizing the last 
word, “are you sure you have not met with some mis- 
fortune to-day ?” 

The question startled him ; he was not prepared 
for it ; he expected to quiet her fears and divert her 
mind from the subject by the sly inquiry about supper. 
But her question came quick, clear and pointed, and it 
disconcerted him. With a quick movement he turned 
and looked down search ingly into her face, and he 
colored deeply as his eyes met her grieved, beseeching, 
inquiring glance. 

Ah, how thoroughly she knew him ; how she could 


270 


D OMES TIC II A P PIN ESS. 


read his thoughts as an open book, and how thor- 
oughly she liad become a part of liim — bone of his 
bone, flesh of his flesh, and spirit of |iis spirit. Plac- 
ing her white, dimpled, little hands in his great palms, 
and leaning over on his knees, she sat still a moment, 
looking up into his face. Tftere was an expression of 
unutterable tenderness on her face, and an anxious, 
yearning look in her eyes, as in a grieved tone she 
said. 

“ Why do you wish to keep any thing from me dear ? 
Am I not your wife ? Is it not my duty — my right to 
share your trials as well as joys ? Do you regard me as 
only a dearchild to be fondled, indulged and loved ? No 
Rudolph dear, God has given me to you for a help-meet, 
as Avell as for a companion, and though I may not need 
to weave, spin or toil with my hands, it is my duty to 
cheer, comfort and counsel you in every trial, and not 
only so, but I would not be a true wife did I not feel 
slighted if so ignored. If you labor with your brain 
to secure the means to provide for my comfort, may I 
not share such labor? Rudolph dear, must I sit here 
day after day through long years, buried in home 
duties, and know nothing of you beyond this threshold ? 
Nothing of your trials, vexations and heart burnings? 
for they come to all God's creatures, and you can not 
escape them. Is it my mission only to love you, to 
be faithful to my holy marriage vows, to keep your 
home in order and to minister to your comfort and hap- 
piness while you are within these four walls? Am I to 
share none of your brain labor? Rudolph, all things 
labor. The rivers run murmuring to the sea, plants 
labor as they grow-, worlds labor as they whirl through 
space, and human minds labor ever. Have you anticipa- 


DOMESTIC HAPPIiXESS. 


271 


tions of business diaster ? if so, think of the many sleep- 
less nights you have passed under like cixcumstances 
for which there was no necessity. It is human nature 
— human weakness to be continually fretting about 
imaginary threatening evils — to be crossing bridges 
while the rivers are yet far distant, and yet when we 
arrive on the shore, we find that God has prepared a 
safe way over which we may pass. So, dear,” she 
continued, creeping up into his arms, and pressing her 
soft, warm cheek against his, “ so if you will not tell me 
of your vexations, I will apply the balm of my sympathy 
to your wounded spirits, and cast my sunshine into the 
darkness of your trouble, even though in so doing 1 
may be compelled for want of knowledge as to the 
nature and locality of your ailment, to make a general 
application of all my remedies. So now dear, here’s 
the first dose, take it like a good boy,” and she pouted 
her mouth for a kiss. 

Whack! Crack! Slap!” Mercy what a noise! 
It startled baby who, gave a little grunt of alarm, 
aroused Towzer from a delightful dream, and startled 
the mocking-bird who was dreaming of Miss Mocking- 
Bird somewhere, until he danced around on his perch 
and began to trill, whistle and sing. The nurse who 
had retired for the moment to her boudoir in the attic, 
to arrange her toilet in anticipation of a call from her 
William Henry Augustus, paused just in the act of 
adjusting an elastic, and exclaimed: “Mercy sakes 
alive! Somebody has mashed a winder.” The house- 
girl who was arranging the table for supper and sing- 
ing in a cracked voice, “Oh, Willie We Have Missed 
You,” paused in the midst of a heart-rending, ear-split- 
ting strain, and inquired, “Missus did ye call?” while 


272 


DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 


the kitchen-wench called up through the dumb waiter- 
passage to the house girl, ‘‘ There now, you’ve done it ; 
what did you break, Mary Ann T’ 

Merryfellow held his dear little wife so tightly that 
her struggles to release herself from his grasp were 
ineffectual, and she could only lie still in his arms and 
blush and quiver. 

“My — my de — dear, do — don’t ki — kiss so loud, 
you'll fri — frighten everybody out of the house. Let 
me get down now, please dear.” 

“ One more kiss,” he whispered, close in her ear. 

“ I — if you’ll ki — kiss my way,” she replied, putting 
her arms around his neck and placing her lips to his. 
“ Well,” he whispered hurriedly, and quickly there 
followed the tiniest little smack imaginable, accom- 
panied by a dainty squeeze, and then she fluttered from 
his arms with burning cheeks and tingling nerves. 

Just then the blaze in the lamp on the mantel ran 
up too high in the chimne}^, and, as she hastened to 
turn down the wick, her hand touched a paper which 
lay beside the lamp, and she called out, laughingly, 
“ Do you know what a careless dear you are. What do 
you suppose I found in your great-coat to-day as I was 
about to pack it away in the cedar chest ? ” 

“ Don’t know,” he replied. “A thousand-dollar 
note ? ” 

‘‘ No, not exactly, but some valuable papers. I don’t 
know what ; an official document of some kind ; didn’t 
read it all, onl v glanced here and there along the lines, 
and as I didn’t find your name anywhere, didn’t become 
enough interested to toil through those horrible, harsh, 
strange legal sentences. But here it is dear, I found it 
in the back part of the skirt of your great-coat, between 


DOMESTIC I/APTINESS. 2/3 

the lining and the cloth. Here it is, aren’t I an inquisi- 
tive body % ” 

‘‘Yes, dear,” he replied, as he took the paper from 
her hand and advanced toward the light, “ Yes, you 
are a charming little inquisitive body, but always to a 
good purpose ; you’re a jewel rare and radiant.” 

Then he drew the paper from the envelope, opened 
itr, held it up to the light and began to read. 
She watched the expression of his face narrowly, 
as he proceeded. AVatched him, because she saw 
that he was interested, and that discovery suddenly 
awakened within her an interest also. So she glided 
over to his side, put her arm through his, and looking 
up into his face, inquired anxiousl^q “ What is it, dear 

He was whispering the words as he read, and was so 
absorbed that he did not hear her inquiry, and she 
repeated it, “ AVhat is it, dear?” and she gave his arm 
a squeeze which brought his kind glance down to her 
face. 

Oh, why, Dollie, it’s a very important document. 
Mercy me, I thought it lost. It must have slipped 
down through the hole in my pocket.” And again he 
began to read. 

“But you haven’t told me what it is, dear,” she 
replied, pulling at his arm. 

“Ah, me, no; I believe I didn’t. AVhy, Dollie, you 
could never guess.” 

“But I don’t want to try ; oh. I’m all impatience; 
do relieve my curiosity, do tell me, Bolphy.” 

“AYell, what do you think,” he replied, dreamily, 
“ You would never imagine. It is the last will of Mark 
Barry^ bequeathing to his sister, Mrs. AYorsham, his 
entire estate.” 


DOMESTIC IIArnXESS. 


274. 

“ But what were doing with it? How did you 
come by it?” she inquired, eagerly.” 

“ Honestly,” he replied. ‘‘ I came by it honestly, 
dear, and I’ll tell you all about it at supper. But I 
must deliver this to Mrs. Worsham immediately,” and 
he hurriedly passed into the hall, })ut on his hat and 
went out. 


CIIAPTEPw XXII. 


savp:d from the deep. 

The vessel aboard of which Foxey Grube had been 
taken from the river, where Michael Snoozer and con- 
federates had thrown him from the bridge, was a 
schooner which had remained ice-bound in port all 
winter, but in anticipation of the opening of navigation, 
had been freshly provisioned and manned for a voyage. 
However, the breaking up of the outer harbor ice had 
occurred much sooner than anticipated, and as it rushed 
onward, it broke the vessel loose from her moorings 
and drifted her out into the lake. It would have been 
madness to have attempted to return to the harbor 
against the heavy body of ice which flowed outward, 
and being out, the captain decided to set sail and 
attempt a voyage up the lake. 

Grube, soon after his rescue, indeed within an hour, 
so far recovered from the effects of his ice-water bath 
as to be able to sit up and drink hot whisky punch 
with the captain, a boyhood friend and playmate. 
This was their first meeting during five years, for the 
two men had drifted apart sociall}", and had not sought 
to continue the acquaintance. But there, that night 
in the schooner’s cabin, as she plowed the deep, and 
gracefully rode the mighty waves, they lived again in 
the past, and were boys again. About three o’clock 
they crept into their bunks where Grube remained in 
dead slumber until the following noon, when, after 
having partaken of a hearty dinner, he felt, as he 
275 


SAVED FROM THE DEEP. 


expressed it ‘^qiiite as good as new.” On thefoiirlli day 
oat they sighted an inward-hound schooner, and as she 
lay to, Grube was safely transferred to her deck, and 
four days thereafter safely landed less than one hun- 
dred yards below the bridge from which Snoozer had 
hurled him as he believed, to death. 

Grube went immediately to the Palace of the 
Avenue, and Judge Dudley being absent at the time, 
Grube was received in the drawing room b}^ Kate 
Dudley, to whom he related his terrible exploit, and 
full particulars of his miraculous rescue and subsequent 
voyage. As she listened, her face grew white and she 
leaned forward and looked earnestly into his face. Her 
steady gaze embarrassed him somewhat, and he blushed 
like a school-girl at examination. She was deepU^ 
interested, whv, particularly, she did not care to 
inquire, but the fact remained, of which she was 
deeply conscious, and she caressed the sentiment in her 
heart. “ God be praised for your deliverance,” she 
ejaculated, mentally, even w^hile her lips uttered the 
words, “You have some dangerous enem\q Mr. Grube. 
The assassin w^anted 3murlife, not your money. You 
will not be so easily netted again, will go armed here- 
after, eh? I congratulate 3^ou most heartily on Amur 
rescue from such imminent peril. I can never be 
sufficiently thankful” — she stopped short, without com- 
ydeting the sentence, colored slightlv, seemed much 
confused, and an awkward silence followed, during 
Avhich she tapped the carpet nervousl}^ Avith her slip- 
pered foot, and seemed deeply interested in the bright 
figures of the carpet. 

Singular, she congratulated him on his rescue, and 
could never be sufficient!}^ thankful for something not 


SAVED FROM THE DEEP. 


277 

fully expressed. Singular indeed, inasmuch as since 
their last intervie\v she had secretly caused diligent 
inquiry to be made in reference to his character and 
occupation, and he sat before her entirely unmasked. 
Singular that she could not be sufficiently thankful for 
— what, his deliverance? 

Grube comprehended all in a flash ; his quick per- 
ception went straight to the truth, cutting through the 
tangle, and untwisting the snarl with the keen knife of 
penetration and the nimble fingers of thought. The 
knowledge thus gained set his pulses bounding — 
brought a scarlet flush to his face, and his voice quiv- 
ered as he replied : 

“ Thanks, Miss Dudley, I assure you that if any- 
thing could tempt me to hazard another like adventure 
it would be the certainty of hearing from your li})s 
expressions of thankfulness for my deliverance.” IJis 
Avords appeared to increase her embarrassment, and, 
Avithout venturing a reply, she arose, Avalked to the 
Avindow and stood gazing up the aA^enue. Soon her 
self-possession returned, and Avith it her stateliness and 
dignity of manner; but, as she turned to resume her 
seat, she confronted Grube, Avho had risen and silently 
approached her. She Avas startled to find him so near 
Avithout Avarning, took a step backward and flashed a 
look of keen inquiry into his face. He was quick to 
respond, audibly, and with his most captiA^ating smile. 

“Kate — pardon me for presuming to address you by 
your Christian name,” he said, “but I feel that Ave are 
no longer strangers. Kate, I wish I could feel per- 
fectly free to call you dear Kate, for you are that to 
me Avhether you Avill or no. Then, dear Kate, Avill you 
not accept my pure friendsliip, a brother’s deA^otion?” 


278 SAVED FROM THE DEEP. 

There was a sly, cunning twinkle in her e^’es which 
she could not restrain as he uttered the last words. 
She had heard of lover’s offerings of brother’s love, 
and well knew its quality and ])urpose. 

“ You ask,” he continued, ‘‘ who and what I am. I 
see the inquiry in 3’our eyes, and liere is my frank 
reply. By profession I am a gambler, but I bleed the 
rich that I may be able to give to the poor. I am 
utterly alone in the world, drifted here and there by 
every wind and tide. But I am capable of being a 
better man, and from this hour I will forsake my evil 
ways and strive to be true and honorable, Kate, dear 
Kate, even though you continue as now to frown 
scornfully down upon me, and in your displeasure 
send me forever from your presence, you can not erase 
from my memory your kind words of congratulation 
just spoken. They will ever burn in my heart as brill- 
iant watch-fires penetrating the night which has so 
long enveloped it, and lighting me on to pure and noble 
ends. I go from your presence, Kate, a changed man, 
with new hopes and pure aspirations, and all that I 
dare hope for now is that, as you find me worthy, you 
will give me your friendship and confidence, that I 
may not grow weary and faint in the battle, and fall 
back into the ways of sin.” 

When he began to speak and called her dear Kate, 
she drew herself proudly up to her full height and cast 
a glance of withering scorn upon him. But as he pro- 
ceeded, his manly bearing, and his frank and truthful 
admissions in reference to his character and occupa- 
tion seemed to soothe her anger somewhat, and, as he 
continued in a voice low and musical, slightly quivering 
with emotion, spoke of the preciousness to him of 


SAVED FROM THE DEEP. 


2/9 


her words of congratulation, and concluded by asking 
only her friendship and confidence as she might find 
him worthy, and his final appeal, uttered in a whisper 
with musical inflection, seemed to touch a sensitive 
cord — to strike a new note which vibrated throuo^h her 
heart and produced a sudden and complete revulsion of 
feeling. Was cold, cruel pride at last vanquished, and 
had the sly little love-god winged a keen, slender 
arrow into a warm, sensitive heart ? She stood before 
him with flushed face and a soft, dreamy light in her 
eyes. She did not shrink from his glance as their eyes 
met, but looked steadily, trustingly into his face, and in 
that moment a legion of new, sweet hopes were born 
one by one. and a silent compact was made, deposited 
and sealed up in the holy treasury of two human 
hearts united. 

She had unconsciously taken a step forward, had 
made a movement to extend to him her hand and he 
to grasp it, when, as suddenly she drew back, saying, 
confusedly, ‘‘Father has arrived, is now in the hall. 
I will go tell him you are here,” and before he could 
reply or make a movement to detain her, she had 
swept from the room, the door had closed, and he 
stood alone by the window. 

At length a servant entered and announced that 
Judge Dudley would see Mr. Grube in the library, and 
accordingly he followed the servant out and up the 
broad flight of stairs. 

Grube was kindly received by Judge Dudley, to 
whom he related Jiis perilous adventure in detail. The 
Judge seemed deeply interested, as Grube proceeded, 
and when he had finished with the remark, “and still 
I live a witness to bring Ealph Skinner to justice,” 


SATED EKOM THE DEEP, 


280 

Judge Dudley replied, solemnly', ‘‘earthly witnesses 
are not needed now, for he has gone to his final 
account. Ealph Skinner is dead.” 

“ Dead?” echoed Grube, “ Dead ?” 

^‘Dead,” repeated Judge Dudley, solemnly, and then 
related the circumstances. 

“ And how does that leave the case,” inquired Grube, 
anxiously. 

“It will go by default in favor of defendants, in fact 
the case has already been dismissed on my motion, and 
as Skinner never obtained legal possession of the prop- 
ert\", there the matter ends. 

“ But Snoozer, What of his case? ” 

“He was finally admitted to bail — this morning, I 
believe, and will doubtless bribe himself clear. He is 
out of the grasp of the law now, and we can not hope 
to bring him to justice, unless — ” Judge Dudley 
paused, looked vacantly out of the window, and began 
drumming on the desk with his fingers. He sat thus a 
few minutes in deep meditation, and then suddenly 
turning around to Grube said, resuming the conversa- 
tion where he had left off, “Unless you think best to 
])rosecute him for his attempt to murder you, he will, 
doubtless, be left free to continue his wicked career. 
I have had Sandy Burns carefully secreted for his per- 
sonal safety, else, T am confident, Snoozer would hav^e 
had him murdered.” 

‘AVill you manage the case for me?” inquired Grube. 

“ Being a State case, I can only assist,” was the 
quick reply. “But, Mr. Grube,” he added, earnestly, 
“ You can rest assured that I will do my utmost to 
bring the villain to justice. He is a dangerous man, 
and ought not to be at large.” 


SAVED FKOM THE DEEP. 


28 I 

“ AVell then, to morrow morning, or when most con- 
venient for you, we will institute proceedings against 
him, if agreeable to you.” 

‘‘Certainly, to-morrow morning, and the first move 
will be to have him arrested. I wdll meet you at Justice 
Morgan’s office at half-past ten o’clock and we will get 
a w^arrant for him.” 

Grube remained a few moments longer, and then 
Judge Dudley accompanied him dowm-stairs to the 
hall door, and with a very polite bow Grube passed out, 
and the door closed behind him. 

As he reached the street pavement, Grube glanced 
up toward a certain window of the Palace of the 
Avenue, but the blinds were closed, and he could not 
see the lovely form behind them, nor the full ripe lips 
that were pouted kissing tow^ard him. He could not 
see the lovely, outstretched arms, nor hear the softly 
breathed words of endearment, else he might have gone 
raving mad from excess of joy, for Foxey Grube Avas 
an ardent, impulsive body. 

* * **-:(•* 

“ Papa, dear Papa, I am so glad you have come.” It 
Avas the feeble voice of little Jim Avhich greeted Foxey 
Grube as he entered his room. “ I Avas afraid,” con- 
tinued the child, “I Avas afraid you Avould stay aAA^ay 
too long. Papa dear — too long, for I am almost there — 
almost there,” and tears coursed down the thin AAdiite 
face on Avhich death’s dew was gathering, and he held 
out his little Avhite hands, through Avhich the light 
shone as through glass, and turned his head feebly on 
his pillow. The housekeeper stepped aside as Grube 
n])proached the bed, and the doctor walked to the win- 
dow and stood looking out over the house tops. There 


282 


SAVED FROM THE DEEP. 


was profound stillness in the room, save the sobs of 
him who bowed over the dying child and the mournful 
twittering of the mocking-bird in its gilded cage. 

Hark! “ Our Father which art in heaven ” — it was 
the faint voice of little Jim in prayer. 

“ Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done ” — it was 
the voice of Foxey Grube in prayer. 

‘‘And forgive our trespasses, and lead us not into 
temptation, but deliver us from evil. Oh God, have 
mercy on my poor dear papa and make him good, that 
we may live together forever in heaven.” 

It was the dying prayer of little Jim, for even as the 
last words came from his white lips in a faint whisper, 
his clasp around Grube’s neck relaxed, his nerveless 
hands fell by his side and his pure spirit passed to the 
loving arms of his angel mother, who stood waiting to 
receive him on the shadowy shore. 

Foxey Grube bent lovingly over the still form of his 
child, straightened the little fleshless limbs and closed the 
lids forever on the sightless eyes, and then knelt beside 
the bed , covered his face with his hands and wept. Then 
the doctor approached, examined the pulse and said, as 
he turned sadly away, “ The feeble machinery was worn 
out, and he would have died two days ago but for his 
determination to live until your return. The poor child 
has prayed for you constantly the past three days, and, 
Edward Grube, if the prayers of a little one who has 
never known sin — guilty sin, can, with the Great Mas- 
ter, avail anything for the salvation of a human soul, 
you must be led onward and upward into the glorious 
light of holiness.” Then the doctor pressed his hand 
and went out, followed b}’' the housekeeper, and 
Edward Grube was left alone with his precious dead. 


SAVED FROM THE DEEP. 


283 


There, beside the bed, clasping the hands of the dead 
child, he knelt through the long hours of the niglit, 
wept and moaned, prayed and repented the wrongs of 
his past life, but with the morning dawn, a sweet peace 
came to his soul, and he burst forth in a joyous strain : 
“ Jesus sought me when a stranger, wandering from the 
fold of God,” and then, ‘‘ Justus I am without one plea^ 
but that Th}" blood was shed for me.” Surely he had 
found the true light, the straight and narrow way,” 
and his feet were treading in the paths of holiness and 
peace. 


CIIAPTEE XXIII. 


THE DEW DROP INN GARRISONED. 

The Dew Drop Inn at the Sands was deserted and 
silent that beautiful evening. The throng of villainous 
human wrecks, which for years had held nightly orgies 
there, had been refused admittance that evening, and 
the doors had been closed and locked. A dim light 
glimmered through the window-blinds of the bar-room, 
in which a dozen low-browed, vicious, desperate-looking 
men were seated around tables, drinking liquor, smok- 
ing and conversing in subdued whispers. An air of 
mt^stery pervaded the apartment, and a strong and 
dangerous undercurrent flowed beneath the smooth 
surface. A dead calm pervaded, a calm more terrible 
than loud threats, blasphemy and boastings, for it was 
the awful ominous stillness which ever precedes the 
tempest. At intervals of distance around the building, 
and out some distance toward the city, stalwart and 
heavily-armed men walked to and fro, like soldiei’s on 
guard, while occasionally the signal of safety, “all 
right,” in tones barely audible, passed along the line. 
The men in the bar-room were also heavily armed, and 
the place presented the appearance of a fort guard- 
room, from the formidable array of firearms in corners 
and along the walls. 

“ D’ye think they’ll come. Bottle Xose ? ” inquired a 
stout, desperate-looking man, with a hideous, bloated 
face and bull-dog under jaw, addressing another with a 
pock marked, dish face, little deep-set, colorless bleared 
eyes and enormous nose. 

284 


TilE DEIV DROP IXN GARRISOXED. 285 

Think conic, (lid ye ask? Think! AThy, I 

don’t think at all, fur I don't like to, an’ won’t think 
"^v’en 1 can git ’round it. But I don’t need to think 
’bout that, fur I jest k7ioio they will. It’ll be hotter 
nor blazes here afore an hour, ye bet, an’ some o’ ye 
lads’ll have a show t’ die or claw fish right lively, o.r 
I’m a bigger fool than Tim Blinker, who climbed up 
one side o’ a tree an’ down on t’other, ’cause ’t was in 
his road, an’ he hadn’t sense enough B go ’round it. 
Think, eh ? D’ye ’spose I don’t know w’at I’m chinnin’ 
about, ’specially w’en I seed ’em gittin’ ready an’ 
hear’n ’em whisper ’bout ’tat th’perliece headquarters, 
not more’n an hour ago. Ye jest bet y'r bottom beer- 
check that they’ll come, an’ fight, too. Howsomever, 
we’re good fur ’em, I reckon, eh?” 

“ Ye better bet we is,” was the swaggering, boastful 
reply, in a quivering voice, as Bull dog emjitied down 
his rum-tanned throat a glassful of villainous whisky, 
while a tremulous murmur of assent and approbation 
passed around the circle, and then in silence each 
poured from the bottle and down his throat the poison 
which they called whisky, and so, amid whisperings, 
consultations, boastings, drinking and smoking, the 
moments glided along until the hands of the clock 
behind the bar pointed to nine, and then a sudden 
silence came upon them, and with white faces and fear 

mped on every feature, they sat still and listened. 

Michael Snoozer was alone in his council chamber, 
walking the floor excitedly. His usually dead, sullen 
self-possession seemed to have entirely deserted him, 
and for the first time in his life his manner betrayed 
a])prehension of impending disaster, for so he really 
fell 


286 THE DEW DROP INN GARRISONED. 

Usually lie possessed perfect control of his nerves 
and thoughts, but on that occasion he was completely 
unmanned, and for the moment powerless in the firm 
grasp of fear. lie felt an awful crisis approaching; he 
saw the handwriting on the wall, and he felt his vile 
life trembling in the true balances of stern, blind jus- 
tice. He had endeavored to nerve himself against the 
shock, which he knew was sure to come and could not 
be delayed. lie had endeavored to force himself into 
sullen indifference as to results. His fears and judg- 
ment had repeatedly and vehemently urged him to fly 
elsewhere for safety before the law could again clutch 
him in its firm grasp, but his stubborn, defiant nature 
refused the counsel and government of reason, and, 
with a resolution worthy of a better man and a just 
cause, he remained to defy, and, if need be, fight the 
forces of the law if hurled against him. 

Therefore the Dew Drop Inn had been converted 
into a fortification, fully garrisoned and prepared for 
desperate defense, and there, in the profound stillness 
of his council chamber, Snoozer awaited the onset with 
ail the resolution and self-bravado of which he was 
capable. 

Still, he wandered aimlessly in a dark labyrinth of 
uncertainty, and the horrible wraith of apprehension 
drifted around and before him, leaving him but one 
faint ray of hope. He must win the impending battle. 
He must drive back the forces of the law, and then the 
honorable mayor whom he had created must come to 
his relief and shield him from further persecution. 

“ Cuss him, cuss him,” he muttered, savagely, as he 
ground his teeth together and snapped like a hungry 
wolf. Cuss him, if I had him here I’d let out his 


THE DEW DROP INN GARRISONED. 287 

heart’s blood. Sandy, th’ blasted squealer, is t’ blame 
fur all this, an’ I’ll have his life for ’t afore he can 
ever squeal afore th’ court. If Peel Eye can spot th’ 
cuss an’ bring him here, I’ll hx him. I’ll let out his 

heart’s ” lie stopped short and listened. Hark! 

what did he hear ? A rumbling sound approaching, faint 
at first, nearer and nearer, roll, roll, rattle, rattle ! Ah 1 
it was only carriage-wheels rumbling along the streets 
of the Sands. His yellow face had changed to gray, 
and he stood there in the middle of the room grasping 
the back of a chair, while his knees knocked together 
and his little black eyes started forth from their almond- 
shaped sockets. As he defined the sound, he instantly 
assumed his hitherto bravado air, and began again to 
walk the floor, but more impatiently. Would this sus- 
pense never end ? Had the cowardly hounds of the law 
shrunk from their duty, and was he safe so long as he 
remained in his fortress? 

Again he paused and listened. The rumbling of tne 
carriage wheels had suddenly ceased, and, hastening 
to the window, he beheld the heads of the horses just 
visible around the corner of the house, and the 
carriage had stopped at the front door of the Dew 
Drop Inn. Again Snoozer began to turn ash color, 
and his limbs quivered as though a sudden palsy had 
seized him. Throwing up the window sash, he leaned 
out and peered through the darkness in endeavors to 
descry the carriage and occupants, but the effort was 
unsuccessful and he drew back into the room, closed 
and bolted the heavy outside wooden shutters, drew 
down and fastened the sash, approached the center 
table, poured out a large glassful of brandy, raised it 
to his lips, threw back his head . nd began to drink. 


288 


THE DEW DROP IXN GARRISONED. 


but stopped and looked toward the door. Hark ! 
What did he hear? Heavy footsteps in the hall. 
Hasty footsteps, loud and heavy in the bar room. 
Had the enemy, despite all his precautions, sli})ped 
through his guard-line, obtained entrance to the house 
through stratagem? Had they overpowered his strong 
body-guard in the bar-room, and were they coming in 
hot haste to drag him away to prison? 

As the footsteps approached the door, Snoozer put 
down his glass, rushed forward, turned the key in the 
lock, shoved the heavy iron bolt into its socket, stepped 
back and drew from the belt around his waist, a 
revolver with each hand, cocked them and waited 
in silence for the attack. He had barely time to 
assume that position when a loud knock came on the 
door, echoed through the long, dark, winding hall 
and might have been distinctly heard a square dis- 
tant. 

“Who is there ?” thundered Snoozer, in response, 
and his voice in deep tones rang out, and his human 
cattle in their miserable dens near by heard, and, 
trembling, sat and listened. It was the peculiar tone 
of his battle cry, and well they knew it, and well 
might they tremble, for it was his challenge to mortal 
combat. Often at the Sands had that cry sounded out 
on the night, and just as often had he sent a human 
soul to its final and awful account. Therefore, when 
they heard his voice raised to that peculiar pitch, they 
trembled, listened and whispered, Snoozer wants 
blood. There'll be another body found hi the lahe.^'‘ 

“ Who's there ?” rang out again, and as no reply was 
made, for the third time Snoozer thundered forth the 
peremptory inquiry, “Who’s there?” 


THE DEIV DROP EVH GARRISOHED. 289 

“Open the door and see,” was the reply, finally in 
a half whisper. “ Open the door and see.” 

Instantly Snoozer’s demeanor changed, his fierce 
defiance became surprise, and his attitude of defense 
changed to one expressive of astonishment. Immedi- 
ately he returned his weapons to their scabbards, 
hastened to the door, drew back the bolt, and, as the 
door swung open, he grasped the hand that was 
extended to him, and drew into the room Charles 
Barr3\ 

“ Whv, man — why, man alive, where did you come 
from ? Dropped down out o’ the clouds ? I’m right 
glad to see ye, Barry, although ye’re not very safe 
here, if ye did but know it. D’ye know w’at’s up?” 

“ All about it, Snoozer,” replied Barry, “ and that is 
why I came here. You will not be troubled until just 
before daylight, when you will be attacked by a strong 
force of police. How are you prepared for defense?” 

“ Fifty men,” replied Snoozer. 

“ And you intend to fight ?” 

“Why, w’at ’re ye talkin’ about Barry, w’at d’ye 
take me for? Intend to fight? I wouldn’t be at all 
surprised if sich was th’ calculation. Fight? Why, 
of course I'll fight.” 

“ And have you no fears as to the result?” 

“W’at’s th’ use o^ fears? ’T won't make it no bet- 
ter, only worse, I’m not gwine t’ be bamboozled around 
by a mess o’ pigs, set on by old Dudley an’ Foxey 
Grube. I’m jest gwine t’ stay right here an’ whip th’ 
whole city if they come for me, ye better bet I will. 
Hump ! fear th’ result. Ye don’t know Snoozer, feller, 
ye don’t, not by a jng full. But here, Barry, I was 
about t’ take a sniff o’ brandy w’en ye tried t’ knock 


290 


THE DEW DROP hWV GARR/SOiVED. 


th’ door down, an’ I jest got me lips wet an’ me whistle 
in tootin’ order w’en I set her down t’ fight, I thought, 
an’ there she sets yet. Come, she looks as if she wanted 
somebody t’ swaller, an’ I guess I’ll do it. Come, pard, 
an’ take a sniff.” And so the two men approached the 
table, Snoozer poured out a glassful of brandy for Barry, 
and then their glasses clicked together and the brain- 
deadening, soul-destroying liquid hissed down their 
throats. 

Now, Snoozer,” said Barry, setting down his glass, 
you want to know where I have been since we last 
parted in this room, the night I came here with my 
head bandaged to cover up the gash which Cassell cut 
in with the butt end of the whip, with which I had 
given him such an elegant polishing. Well, Snoozer, 
you will be surprised to learn that I have been in this 
city ever since, I did not go away as you supposed, 
although when I left here, I fully intended to do so. 
But on arrivcil at my room, I changed my mind and 
concluded merely to change my quarters. So Nettie 
and I found a snug little place up towm, in a respect- 
able locality, and as Mr. and Mrs. Hooper, Ave have 
been living in clover. I have been watching your 
movements closely — knew all that Avas passing in court, 
AA^as glad to hear that Skinner had stretched his tough 
old neck in jail, so he could pass in his checks Avithout 
the aid of the law. But I was sorry to hear of your 
arrest, and again glad to hear of your release. I haA^e 
had a spy at police headquarters the past three days, 
because I heard of Grube’s return, and suspecting that 
you were at the bottom of his adventure, I Avas satis- 
fied that steps for your arrest Avould immediately be 
taken. To-day, my man brought me information of 


THE DEW DROP INN GARRISONED. 29 ! 

the intended raid on you to-night, and I determined to 
come and see, and if possible, run you off in my car- 
riage to safe quarters until the trouble could blow 
over. Come, Snoozer, what do you say '^ Twenty 
minutes ride will place you beyond danger, and let me 
insist as a friend, that you will not be guilty of such 
weakness — such absolute insanity as to remain here 
only to be captured or to die like a dog. There is yet 
time, and now what do you say? Come, will you go ?” 

“Barry, I’m not that kind of a fish-bone,” replied 
Snoozer, doggedly. “ I never lights out from danger, 
always faces the fire, an’ I’m not gwine t’ sneak off now 
w’en a squad o’ pigs threaten t’ gobble me. They’ve 
tried that on before, have allers got licked, an’ I ’spect 
we can do it again. Anyhow, I intend t’ stay right 
here, an’ ye needn’t chin any more about ’t, for ’twon’t 

be no use. I’m not gwine to be ” Snoozer stopped, 

raised his hand and whispered, “ Hark ? ” listened, and 
then in a flash glided noiselessly to the door. “ Some- 
one in the hall ! ” he whispered to Barry, who had 
followed him on tip-toe and stood beside him. “ Some- 
one in the hall — hark ! d’ye hear him slippin’ along 
the way ? ” Barry nodded his head, and then both 
stood still and listened. “ He’s slippin’ towards the 
door here,” whispered Snoozer, drawing his revolvw 
and cocking it, and at that moment there came on the 
door a light tap, and Snoozer called out in his ordinary 
tone, “ Who’s there ? ” 

“Me,” replied a faint voice, and yet the tone was 
gruff. “ Me, Snoozer, can I see ye right away ? I’m in 
a big hurry. ” “ Certa’n ye can,” replied Snoozer, replac- 
ing his pistol in his belt, and then, as he withdrew the 
bolt and swung open the door. Peel Eye came cring- 


2g2 


THE DEW DROP INN GARRISONED. 


ing sidewise into the room, holding his slouch hat in 
one hand and pulling his scalp lock in obeisance with 
the other. “ Certain ye can see me,” repeated Snoozer, 
closing the door behind Peel Eye. Ye're th’ kind o’ 
chap w’at suits me, pard. Th’ rale true grit w’at 
fetches ’em every pop. Th’ only feller at th’ Sands 
worth a straw t’ send on a smeltin’ job w’en there’s 
sharp work to do.” 

“ Yes, ye-e-s,” mumbled Peel Eye, insolently, 
still twitching his scalp lock, while an expression of 
low cunning passed over hb face, ‘‘Ye-e-s,” he 
drawled, wagging his head and glancing at Barry and 
Snoozer, alternately, questioningly “Ye-e-s ! ” 

“Well, w’at’s up, Peel Eye?” inquired Snoozer, 
impatiently. “ W’at are ye standin’ there for chinnin’ 
’bout ye-e-s for?” 

“W’at’s up! did ye say? Up? Why th’ devil’s 
up an’ no pitch hot. Up? W’at d’ye think? 
Couldn’t trap th’ cuss — ” He stopped short, as though 
he had bitten his tongue, glanced into Barry’s face, 
and then inquiringly into Snoozer’s, then up at the 
ceiling and began to whistle. 

“That’s Barry, he’s all right. Peel Eye, spit it 
out 1 ” 

“Well,” replied Peel Eye, cramming a large piece 
of tobacco into his mouth, “Well as I ^vas sayin’ I 
couldn’t trap th’ cuss, Sandy, so as t’ fetch him here as 
ye counted on. He wouldn’t bite worth a cent, an’ so 
I had t’ do th’ next best thing, which was t’ get him 
whar ye could go an’ squelch him agreeable t’ y’r 
mind an’ wishes as ye talked w’en I went away.” 

“Where is th’ cuss?” inquired Snoozer, savagely 
clutching the handle of a Bowie-knife which hung in 


the TEIV DROP IHN GARRISONED. 

its scabbard on liis bip, Where is th’ miserable 
varment ” 

‘‘ Don’t know where he is at this moment,” replied 
Peel Eye, blinking his bleared eyes and pulling his scalp 
lock vigorously. Don’t know jest where he is now, 
but I can tell ye where he will be at ten o’clock, least- 
wise he promised to meet me. If that’ll do ye any 
good, I can tell ye that.” 

“Well, out wi’ ’t,” hissed Snoozer, grasping the 
back of a chair, raising it up and bringing it down vio- 
lently on the floor, “ Spit it out, where will he be?” 

“Well, Snoozer,” replied Peel Eye, not in the least, 
intimidated by Snoozer’s violence, “ I’ll have t’ tell ye 
a story afore ye can understand, an’ so ye must be 
patient until I can come t’ th’ p’int. Now, here ’tis, 
I found Sandy, after a long hunt, in Mag Hopper's 
catch-’em-quick, over on West side. He was orful 
skeared w’en he seed me, an’ showed fight cause he 
knows w’at a slipper}^ lubber I am, an’ that me an’ j^ou 
be jined together, somewhat, leastwise we work with 
one fork, pitchin’ round, an’ that we go in th’ same 
shoes an’ ride in th’ same boat. Well, Snoozer, I said 
to him, ‘Why, Sandy, w’at d’ye take me fur? D'ye 
’spose I belongs t’ Snoozer. If ye do, ye are mightily 
beat for onct, for I’ve broke loose from him long 
while back, an’ now I have t’ skip round right lively 
t’ keep out o' his way. Where’ ve ye been this long 
while back ? ’ Then he put up his shootin’ iron an’ we 
shook hands, an’ we ’gratulated each other on gettin’ 
out o’ y’r clutches an’ bein’ free men, an’ then he told 
me where he’d bin, an’ all ’bout how old Dudley found 
out ’bout his chuckin’ Barry overboard, which news 


2g4 dew drop inn- garrisoned. 


knocked me clean off my pins, for wlio'd a tliunk it, ye 
can’t guess in a hundred years how it was.” 

“I don’t want t’ try,” replied Snoozer, impatiently. 
‘‘How did he find it out?” 

“Why, through that feller Cassell, an’ how d’ye 
spose he found ’t out? Why, through Snoozer, 
Jingo !” 

“ W’at d’ye mean ?” demanded Snoozer, savagely. 
“ It’s a cussed lie. I’ll cut y’r miserable heart out, if 
ye talks that arway t’ me, ye blackguard,” and grasping 
the handle of his Bowie-knife, he drew it from its 
scabbard and advanced toward Peel Eye, with his hand 
raised threateningly. The bright blade glittered in the 
light as Snoozer held it aloft, but Peel Eye stood still 
and grinned viciously. He had drawn a revolver from 
under his coat, cocked it and stood on the defen- 
sive, ere Snoozer detected the movement, and realized 
that Peel Eye was master of the situation. 

“ Ye don’t want t’ butcher y’r best friend, Snoozer,” 
said Peel Eye, soothingly. “ Ye don’t want t’ butcher 
y’r best friend, 1 hope, ’specially w’en he’s working for 
ye like a beaver, an’ jest cause he tells ye w’at that cuss 
Sandy said.” 

“That’s so. Peel Eye,” replied Snoozer, mollified. 
“That’s so,” and he returned the knife to its scabbard, 
and added, “ Spit it out. Peel Eye, tell us all th’ black- 
guard said.” “ Well, now ye talk sense,” said Peel 
Eye, putting up his weapon. “Now, Snoozer, ye talks 
like y’rself, an here’s w’at he said ’bout ye. He said 
that Cassell said that one day — th’ day ye went to see 
th’ body at th’ morgue, which ye thought was Sandy, 
he met ye on the street as ye went from there t’ meet 
Mr. Barry, who was at the Nose Paint. Well, ye 


THE DEW DROP INN GARRISONED. 


295 


stopped on the street awhile t’ kinder rest, an’ ye 
leaned ’gainst a lamp post on a corner, an’ begin chin- 
nin’ t’ y’rself, as ye do sometimes, an’ he stood near. 
Cassell, I mean, an’ hearn all ye said, an’ ye let th’ cat 
out o’ th’ bag, an’ he caught her. Well, that’s how 
Cassell found out about it, for Cassell told him, of 
course, an’ that's how they come t’ hunt Sandy up, an’ 
promised t’ let him go free if he’d squeal on ye.” 

While Peel Eye talked, Snoozer walked the floor like 
a caged lion, gnashing his teeth, and muttering horri- 
ble curses. His hands played viciously with the weap- 
ons in his belt ; his face grew black and foam oozed 
from his lips. As Peel Eye concluded, Snoozer stopped 
before him and said in a voice husky with suppressed 
rage, “ W’at’re ye stoppin’ for? Spit it all out — Alir 

“Well, Snoozer, Pm cornin’ t’ that arter awhile, but 
Pd like t’ wet me whistle a bit, for it’s dry an’ won’t 
toot,” and he glanced wistfully toward the bottle of 
brandy on the table. 

Well, take a sniff, replied Snoozer, continuing his 
walk, and muttering curses. “ Take a sniff an’ be in a 
hurry about it.” 

Peel Eye went sidewise to the table, keeping his 
face toward Snoozer, and watching his every move- 
ment, seized the bottle with eager, quivering hands, 
poured out a full glass of liquor, tossed back his 
head, and with eyes still fixed on Snoozer, swallowed 
the brandy at one gulp. As he straightened up, he sat 
down the glass, smacked his lips and said, “ That’s 
good stuff, an’ no mistake, an’ now t’ continner, I paid 
fur th’ drinks wi’ y’r money Snoozer, an’ Sandy got it 
up his nose rale bad, an’ his tongue got loose an’ he 
rattled out all he knew, which I jest told ye, well 


296 THE DEW DROP INN GARRISONED. 

then I says t’ Sandy, ‘ you nor me can’t be free men 
while Snoozer lives, an’ I motion we make it up some- 
how t’ throttle him.’ ‘Eh ? that’s a go,’ says he, ‘but w’en 
’ll we do it, an’ how?’ ‘To-night, sez I, an’ I’ll tell ye 
how. Snoozer’s goin’ over t’ see his duxey-truxey, 
Miriam Swan, t’-night, an’ we ’ll catch him on th’ 
bridge, slip a knife into him, an’ drop him into th’ 
drink, eh ? ’ ‘ That’s a go’ sez he, ‘an’ I’ll meet ye there at 
ten o’clock or thereabouts.’ So, Snoozer, we shook 
hands on ’t, an’ here I be, an’ that am th’ end on ’t.” 

Snoozer paused before Peel Eye, grasped his hand, 
shook it warmly, and said, “ Good ! good ! y’re sharp 
as tacks. Peel Eye, ye be fur a fact, an’ I likes ye fust 
best, an’ ye shall lose nothin’ by stickin’ t’ Snoozer. 
Here,” he continued, drawing a roll of bank notes from 
his pocket, “ Here, Peel Eye, I knows how t’ reward 
me friends, take this,” and he thrust a large bill into 
Peel Eye’s hand, then Snoozer turned to Barry and 
said, excitedly, “ Pard, if we can throttle th’ buggar 
don’t ye see we’re all right ? There won’t be no case 
against us, leastwise you’ll be clear, an’ th’ will o’ ole 
Barry bein’ gone, destroyed no doubt, don’t ye see 
you’ll come in for y’r share o’ th’ property. Th’ thing 
looks brighter, a good deal brighter, an’ we’ve got th’ 
world by th’ throat yet, hurrah ! But we must squelch 
Sandy now, this very night, for it is our only chance.” 

Glancing up at the clock, he was about to add some 
remark, when that busy little machine stopped ticking 
an instant, gave forth a sharp whirring sound, and then 
continued its busy marking of time as though nothing 
unusual had occurred. 

Snoozer burst forth in a loud laugh, approached the 
mantel, put his hand upon the clock and caressed it, 


THE DEW DROP IiYN GARRISONED. 


297 

saying confidentially to it, All right me little sweet- 
heart, all right, I understand ye.’^ Then turning 
around and addressing Barry, he said, “ Th’ clock says 
it’s all right, an’ that we must be in a hurry ’bout ’t. 
We’ve half an hour t’ get there. W’at d’ye say ? ” 

“ It is just the plan,” replied Barry, eagerly, “ but my 
team will make the distance in ten minutes. Therefore 
I would suggest that Peel Eye go on afoot, meet 
Sandy, get him on the bridge, and then we will follow 
and trap him.” 

“That’s good,” replied Snoozer,and accordingly Peel 
Eye hurried away, while Snoozer and Barry lighted 
fresh cigars and sat down by the table to drink poison 
and plot murder. 

As Peel Eye closed the door and hurried along the 
hall he began to chuckle, and when he had passed a 
safe distance beyond Snoozer’s outer guard line, he 
broke forth into a mocking, triumphant laugh, and mut- 
tered, savagely, “Ye’d stick a feller like a dog, would 
ye’^ oh-ha! Two can play at that game, I reckon,” 
and he hurried forward toward the city. Finally he 
came to one of the main north and south streets, 
halted under a street lamp, and placing his fingers in 
his mouth, gave, at brief intervals, three low whistles. 
Then he stopped and listened, whistled again, listened, 
and finally ejaculated, “oh-ha!” as he heard quick 
footsteps approaching, and a few moments later three 
mencameout of the darkness and advanced toward him. 

“ Is that you. Peel Eye?” inquired one, in a low tone. 

“Ye bet!” 

“What luck?” 

“ Good ! Good luck ; its all right,” and then followed 
a hurried whispered consultation, and finally the four 
men hurried away down the street, toward the river. 


298 THE DEW DROP INN GARRISONED. 

Twenty minutes later a carriage containing two men 
was driven at a furious speed by the same corner where 
the four men had held the consultation, turned down 
the main street toward the center of the city, and ere 
long arrived at a certain bridge which spans the river. 
Near the northern bridge approach the carriage 
alted at a street corner, and the two men alighted 
under the light of a street lamp. 

‘‘ Not here,” said the small man, disappointedly. 
“Not here yet; can we have passed him on the way? 
He has certainly had sufficient time.” “No, he’s not 
here, drat th’ cuss,” said the other, as the carriage 
rolled away, let’s step into this doorway out o’ the 
light. We’re on rather ticklish ground here, ’specially 
if a perliece should spot us.” “ That’s true,” replied the 
other, and they stepped quickly back from the light. 

“ Snoozer,” exclaimed the other in a startled, tremu- 
lous whisper, as he grasped his companion’s arm. “ Do 
you hear that, Snoozer?” 

“ Hear w’at, Barry ?” was the quick reply. 

“ There’s some one behind us in the doorway ; I can 
hear them breathe ?” 

At that instant a police officer sprung his rattle just 
across the street, and was answered by another on the 
bridge, by another, and still another up and down the 
street. 

“ Trapped,” whispered Barry, grasping Snoozer’s arm 
again. 

“ Trapped,” replied Snoozer, savagely, as with each 
hand he drew a ])istol from his belt, and then dashed 
forward into an alley a few ])aces to his right, followed 
by Barry, who had also drawn his pistols, and pre- 
pared for defense. As the two men ran at their utmost 


THE HEW DROP INN CARRI^ONED. 


299 


speed they could hear police rattles sounding in every 
direction, and as Barry glanced back over his shoulder 
he could see four men following rapidly. As they 
came to an open court on their right, they saw five men 
enter the alley and advance toward them, completely 
cutting off their retreat in that direction. With a 
howl of rage, Snoozer made a sudden dash to the right 
into the paved court, but Barry, not anticipating his 
flank movement, in time to make the turn successfully, 
slipped on a lose stone, fell headlong to the ground, 
rolled over against the wall and lay perfectly still, 
bruised and stunned by the fall. A moment later the 
pursuers rushed by after Snoozer, and Barry was for 
the moment safe. Instantly he arose on his hands and 
knees, crept across the alley into a narrow passage way 
between tall buildings, crawled along through the 
slush of the gutter, and finally down into the cellar of 
an abandoned building, where he crouched tremblingly 
down behind a pile of old barrels. 

Snoozer ran down the court until he came to the 
solid wall at the further end, where he paused and 
glanced to the riglit. Only the square corner of a 
solid wall there. Then he glanced to the left, a square 
corner of a solid wall there, also, and the dread sound 
of his pursuers’ feet on the stone pavement of the court 
was echoed and re-echoed from those solid, frowning 
walls, and seemed as human voices mocking, jeering, 
gloating over his despair. 

Ye think ye’ve trapped me, eh ? ” he hissed, turn- 
ing toward his pursuers like a wild beast at bay. ‘‘ Ye 
think ye’ve trapped me? Not yet, me hearties, not 
yet,” and in his fury he sprang forward against a door, 
but it was solid, and he reeled backward, recoiling 


300 THE DEW DROP INN GARRISONED. 

from the shock. Glancing back over his shoulder he 
saw his pursuers advancing cautiously not a hundred 
yards distant, and with a horrible oath and a fiendish 
yell he made another dash against the door which gave 
Avay before him, and he plunged headlong into a room, 
having broken the door-lock. Instantly he sprang to 
his feet, closed the door, placed his back against it, 
drew his Bowie-knife, placed it between his teeth, and 
with a cocked pistol in each hand, awaited the attack. 
He had broken into a sleeping-room, for the moment 
unoccupied, but a lamp on a table burned dimly, and 
he looked eagerly around for another avenue of escape. 
The first glance revealed to him his desperate situa- 
tion, for there was but one other opening in the room 
than the door through which he had gained entrance, 
and that a narrow window on the opposite side, 
through which he could see the light from the lajnp on 
the table shining against a solid brick wall, just beyond a 
narrow footway or passage between the buildings, and he 
knew that it would be utter madness to attempt fur- 
ther flight. Ho, he would stand his ground and fight, 
and in his rage and despair he felt himself the equal 
of a dozen men in hand-to-hand conflict. Why did 
not the enemy charge ? He waited and listened — all 
was silence. He could hear only the loud pulsations 
of his own heart. Could it be possible that they had 
abandoned the pursuit even when he was within their 
ver}^ grasp? Did nine hirelings of the law fear to 
attack one desperate man? Truly he began to believe 
so, and gave vent to a sigh of relief. ‘‘ Cusses on 
’em,” he muttered, triumphantly, ‘‘ Cuss the cowardly 

dogs, they know and fear Michael Snoozer, and ” 

At that instant the head and shoulders of a man 


THE DEW DROP INN GARRISONED. 


301 


appeared above the sill of the open window, a cocked 
pistol was pointed at his head, and the stern voice of 
Sandy Burns rang out, “ Snoozer, I want you! ” 

‘ Take that 1 ” was the defiant reply, and simultane- 
ously two shots rang through the room, and Snoozer 
felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder, while Sandy 
Burns swung his hands above his head, fixed a stony 
glare on Snoozer’s face, and then fell at full length 
backward on the pavement of the passage-way — stone 
dead. Immediately there came a heavy shock against 
the door, Avhich threw Snoozer forward, half across the 
room, and, as the door swung violently open, eight pis- 
tols were pointed at Snoozer’s breast. 

“ Surrender or die 1 ’’ was the awful summons, but in 
his insane rage Snoozer was insensible to fear. The 
face of Peel Eye was before him, leering, grinning 
fiendishly, and the hand of Peel Eye grasped a weapon 
which pointed at Snoozer’s breast. As he stood, like a 
wild beast at bay, glaring into the faces of his pursu- 
ers, the awful summons again rang out, “ Snoozer, sur- 
render or die! ” 

‘‘JS’ever! miserable dogs !” he hissed, over the blade 
of the knife which he held in his teeth, “ Never! ” and, 
quick as thought, he raised the pistol in his right hand 
and pulled the trigger. Instantly there were eight 
sharp reports successively, and Michael Snoozer fell 
forward headlong to the floor, while Peel Eye reeled 
and fell backward on the pavement of the court — 
dead. Then the officers entered the room and turned 
Snoozer over on his back, but he only gasped and shud- 
dered as his wicked soul took its flight, to appear for 
judgment before the bar of an offended God. 


CHAPTEE XXIY. 


CHARLES BARRY IN HIDING IS ATTACKED BY FIERCE AND 
DANGEROUS FOES. 

Charles Barry crouched, tremblingly, down behind 
the pile of old barrels in the cellar of the deserted 
house, where he had found refuge from pursuit, and he 
listened breathlessly for sounds of the conflict between 
Snoozer and the officers — a conflict which he knew 
could not be averted, nor long delayed. He was 
familiar with the locality, knew that Snoozer’s retreat 
would be cut off by the solid wall at the end of the 
court, and, knowing Snoozer s desperate, bull-dog 
nature and the determined character of his pursuers, 
he realized that some one would have to die. “You 
can pass in your checks now, Snoozer, for the game is 
up with you forever,” he whispered. 

Suddenly he heard two sharp reports of firearms, 
almost simultaneously, and a few moments later a loud 
volle}^, and then a dead and painful silence followed. 
He could hear the beating of his own heart, and he 
imagined that it could be heard on the street by the 
stealthy searchers after the lost prison-bird. He 
trembled in every limb, each muscle twitched and 
quivered, not from fear, but nervous excitement, and 
his guilty conscience racked and scourged him, until 
his brain seemed on fire and his heart cold as ice. 

“ My God,” he moaned, “ I will not endure this. It 
is the very torment of the damned. Hunted down like 
a wild beast, and driven into a thousand horrors of 
302 


CHARLES BARRY IN HIDING. 


303 


mind and body, I would rather die than longer endure 
it. I will not stay. It is cowardly to crouch down 
here in this filth}^ place like a frightened dog, when by 
one bold dash I might regain my freedom — surely 
maintain my manhood. No, I’ll not stay here like a 
cringing coward, but I’ll go boldly out on the street 
and walk to the Sands, and if anybody dares hinder or 
oppose me, liTce Snoozer, Pll fight! ” 

While thus thinking, he had risen, walked to the 
opening and taken two steps upward, when he paused 
and listened. What did he hear? Why did he rush 
back into the cellar, and cower down behind the pile 
of old barrels? And why did he creep along the wall, 
and feel on it with his quivering hands? Hark ! Foot- 
steps sounded on the pavement of the alley, voices 
echoed along the passage-way leading to the cellar, and 
his pursuers were close on his track. Ah ! What had 
his hands touched, as he crept along the wall ? The 
opening of a drain pipe — a cellar sewer! His trembling 
hands were thrust into the opening, in frantic haste he 
felt .back as far as he could reach, and found it unob- 
structed. It was barely large enough to admit his 
body ; it would require a desperate effort to force him- 
self into it — only a twenty-inch pipe — but he would 
try, it was'his only hope of escape. He drew his pis- 
tols from his belt, put them on the ground by the open- 
ing, and then crept backward into the sewer, pushing 
on the ground with his hands with all his strength, 
until he had forced his body completely into the pipe, 
and then, reaching out, he drew an old barrel up, so as 
to obscure the entrance, and grasped his pistols, just as 
a light from a dark lantern flashed down into the cel- 
lar through the opening from the passage way above, 


304 


CI/AKLES BARRY IN HIDING. 


and seven men came down into the cellar and began 
to search for the fugitive. 

The search was vigorous and thorough. The pile 
of old barrels was pulled down and overhauled; every 
nook and corner received due attention, but the one 
barrel which stood by the wall remained untouched, 
and the human body, wedged down into the sewer pipe 
behind it, was unobserved. 

“ [N’ot here,” said one, who seemed to be in command 
of the party. “]^ot here,” and he flashed his lantern 
around the cellar for the last time, ejaculating disap- 
pointedly, ‘‘ IS'ot here. Are you sure he came into the 
passage way, Burke ? ” 

Yes sir,” was the reply, “I saw him run across the 
alley on his hands and knees. He was skulking by 
the corner when we passed into the court following 
Snoozer.” 

‘‘Well, he’s not here, that’s 'certain. Come, boys, 
no use to kick around those old barrels any longer,” 
and they passed up the stairway and began to search 
the buildings in the vicinity. Every nook, dark 
corner, out-house, cellar and other possible place of 
concealment received due attention, and even the roofs 
of adjoining buildings were reconnoitered, but to no 
purpose. Just as the gray light of day dawn began to 
glimmer faintly in the east, those seven men came out 
of the alley to the street at the place where Snoozer 
and Barry had alighted from the carriage, and the 
leader of the party remarked as he put out the light 
in his dark lantern, “It’s no go, men, Barry has 
escaped clear enough, and you must have been mis- 
taken about seeing him, Burke. We’ll go to the 
station now,” and they marched away over the bridge. 


CHARLES BARRY IN HIDING. 


^305 


For more than an hour after the police officers had 
left the cellar, Charles Barry lay perfectly still in his 
hiding place. He scarcely breathed, and he quivered 
as one with an ague, wdiile great beads of cold 
perspiration stood on his face. lie could hear the 
tramp of feet in adjacent courts and alleys. He could 
hear the low words of consultation and command, and 
knew that his pursuers w^ere still in the vicinity. He 
muttered curses, shook his clenched list, laughed 
scornfully, and hissed between his closed teeth, “you 
are off the track, bloodhounds of the law, miserable 
hirelings, you are outwitted for once, and your game 
is gone.” Then he relapsed again into silence, and 
a languid numbness stole over him, a drowsiness 
against which he had not will or powder to contend, 
and finally he sank into deep slumber. 

And so the hours went by, until the great bells of 
the city chimed four, when suddenly he felt a sharp 
pain in his right leg just below the knee, and another 
in his left leg, and as consciousness returned he felt 
something crawling over him, could hear squeaking 
noises, and something soft brushed quickly over his 
face. A shudder of horror passed over him. He 
reached out his hands, pushed the barrel away, grasped 
the w^all on either side and attempted to crawl out 
into the cellar. What, could he not do it? Had his 
strength failed him, and the poisonous atmosphere of 
cellar and sewer sapped his vitality ? His limbs were 
stiff and numb, and he was cold and faint. Again he 
tried to drag himself out, and again, and yet again, 
clutching the wall with his hands and straining every 
cord and muscle. His body moved a little and a little 
more, and still a trifle, as he struggled, but his little 


3o6 


CHARLES BARRY IN HIDING. 


remaining strength was fast failing. The squeaking 
noises continued, sharp and fierce, and he could hear 
the snapping together of keen teeth in the sewer 
behind him, and in the cellar even close to his face. 

He was attacked hy an army of wharf rats ! 

They had tasted his blood and were tearing his flesh. 
From the sewer behind him they crawled over his body 
in countless numbers, fighting each other for his blood, 
tearing his clothes, and driving their keen teeth into 
his body, while from the cellar they dashed into his 
face and gnawed his hands. 

“ Oh God!” he moaned, ‘Ghis is horrible, must I be 
literally devoured piece-meal ? ” He kicked with his 
feet, fought with his hands, struggled desperately to 
free himself, wailed, cursed and prayed. Up, up, up, 
ah! — he rolled out on the cellar floor, sprang to his 
feet, crushed the old barrel, grasped a stave, and began 
to strike Avith it on the ground around him. The faint 
light of day dawn came down the stairway, and he 
could see the A^ast army of rats rushing along the floor, 
pouring from eA^ery hole and crack, and from the seAver 
pipe. A moment only did he succeed in keeping them 
off, and then they made a sudden dash from every 
quarter, and he felt them biting his feet and legs and 
creeping up his body. Avas horrible. lie could 
endure it no longer; the torture Avas beyond human 
strength or patience to endure, and death Avould 
speedily ensue if he remained. He was no match for 
his foes; they thronged around and over him in count- 
less numbers — a A^ery army invincible. Back, back, 
toward the entrance he retreated, fighting desperately 
Avith hands and feet, clutching the rats aAvay from his 
throat and dashing them doAvn on tlie floor, but they 


CHARLES BARRY IN HIDING, 


307 


swarmed fiercer and faster, screaming struggling, 
fighting for his blood. Gradually his strength gave 
away, and finally, with an agonizing moan, he sank 
down just as a tree falls before a tornado. At that 
instant a shadow darkened the doorway, he heard a 
savage growl, a rushing sound, and, as he looked up 
through the increasing light, he saw his dog, a fierce 
Scotch terrier, dash down the stairway. Immediately 
a fierce conflict ensued, and the noble dog made ter- 
rible havoc among his foes. Rats literally swarmed 
around and over him, buried their sharp teeth in his 
flesh, and trumpeted forth their shrill battle-cry; but, 
quick as thought, he seized one after another in his 
vice-like jaws, crushed, and tossed them aside, until 
around him heaps of his slain enemies began to loom 
up in the growing daylight, and the floor presented the 
appearance of a battle-field in miniature. Barry had 
only fallen to his knees, and with the stave still firmly 
grasped in his right hand continued to fight. lie had 
crawled up beside the wall, and they could only attack 
him in front. The shrewd little animals, seeing the 
fearful havoc which their giant enemy made among 
them, at every charge of their line, finally became 
more cautious, and advanced rather timidly over the 
bodies of their slain companions. At length a gray 
old general sounded a retreat, and the shrill scream 
passed along the line, and was caught up and passed 
down to the reserve forces in the sewer pipe, and was 
echoed b}^ their sentinels in the holes and crevices of 
the old building, even up to the room which had long 
been occupied by Leo Cassell. 

One more brave charge by the noble dog, a few 
more vigorous blows by Barry, and the enemy were 


3o8 chai^les baee v in hiding. 

routed and in full retreat. Another charge, and they 
were driven back into their dens, and the battle was 
ended. 

With a deep-dra\yn sigh of relief, Barry struggled 
feebly to his feet, ascended the cellar stairs followed by 
his brave, faithful hero dog, closed the cellar door 
softly and sank down upon it exhausted, and bleeding 
profusely from many wounds. The faint shadow of 
retreating night still lingered in the air and the eastern 
sky was all aglow with golden and purple light thrown 
forward by advancing day as earth shrank from the 
grasp of cold darkness and joyfully glided to the 
embrace of the sun. 

Charles Barry lay there on the cellar door, bleeding, 
panting, moaning and muttering curses, while his 
faithful dog sat on the ground near, looking wistfully, 
questioningly up into his face. “Curses on my fate,"’ 
he muttered savagely, striking his clenched hand 
on the cellar door. “ Curses on my fate, hunted 
down like a wild beast, spurned even by the ver- 
min, and so vile have I become that even the light 
of day seems to shrink away, leaving me in perpetual 
shadow. Oh God, how low I have fallen! From the 
heights of honor and affluence, I have plunged headlong 
to the lowest depths pf crime and dishonor. One year 
ago, only one year, aye but it seems an age of night 
and agony. One 3^ ear ago I was the peer of any man 
in this proud city, but now I am spurned and loathed 
by all human kind, and even the vermin of the sewers 
have gnawed my flesh and sucked my blood.” 

He was a horrible ghastly sight. The terrors of the 
night had shrunken his form and withered his flesh, 
and the elegantly dressed man who entered that cellar 


CHARLES BARRY IH HIDING. 309 

sewer a few lioiirs before, had come forth into the gray 
light of day dawn, clad in rags and reeking with sewer 
filth, a ghastly, loathsome human wreck, llis eyes had 
shrunken back into his head, his cheeks fallen in, the 
skin of his face was tightly drawn over fleshless bones, 
and through his thin, drawn lips every tooth in his jaws 
might have been counted. Blood oozed from his 
wounds and trickled down the cellar door until at his 
feet a great red pool gradually formed, and into it his 
life was fast flowing, while his wicked spirit watched 
and waited for the coming and summons of the dark 
angel. 

“ Oh God,” he moaned, ‘‘ it is horrible, horrible ! 
An outcast, a criminal, a vile fugitive from justice ! 
Is this indeed the end of all ? must I lie here and die like 
a wounded dog ? Is this the end of my life voyage % 
And am I indeed stranded 


CHAPTER XXV, 


THE FICKLE GODDESS SMILES UPON LEO CASSELL. 

Leo Cassell had risen early that beautiful morning, 
not from his bed of hops and old sacks in his miserable 
quarters in the deserted building on the wharf, but from 
his soft, easy bed in his spacious and elegant apartment 
at the Tremont House. First he put on his patent 
leather boots, which cost eighteen dollars — had been 
made expressly for him and fitted his foot as smoothly 
as a kid glove on a plump hand. Now this was a sin- 
gular way for a man to begin to dress — to put on his 
boots first. We have been informed that ladies usually 
do so, but men seldom, because of the extreme danger 
of rending their nether garments in the act of putting 
them on thereafter. Yet Cassell did so purely from 
force of habit, and that fact explains the mystery. 
He had begun to dress just that way every morning 
for twenty years, and, having no wife to teach him 
better manners, never stopped to consider the 
other more reasonable and proper way. His feet went 
into his boots easily, and he stamped around the floor 
and pulled at the straps in order to straighten out the 
wrinkles and settle his feet into them snugly, and then 
went strolling around in search of something else. 
First he opened the closet door and dived in among a 
quantity of clothing hung on hooks in the wall — mum- 
bling the while, Strange, strange, where in the mis- 
chief could I have put them ?” Then he came out into 
the room, leaving the closet door open and a ouantity 
310 


THE FICKLE GODDESS SMILES. 3 I I 

of clothing, which he had pulled down, heaped upon 
the floor; went to the bureau, opened each drawer, 
leaving each just so, after having thoroughly stirred 
up their contents ; went to the bed, pulled off the cloth- 
ing, shaking each article, vigorously, and depositing the 
same on the floor, and, finally, in sheer desperation, 
flopped down on his hands and knees, and peered 
around under the bed. “ There they are,” he exclaimed, 
gleefully, “there they are, by jingo!” and reaching 
under he drew forth the lost article, his twenty-dollar 
pair of pants. Grasping them by the waist-band, he 
balanced himself on one foot, stretched the pants out 
before him, swung aloft the disengaged foot and 
plunged it into one leg of the trowsers, and then went 
hopping around the room in frantic endeavors to force 
his foot through. “Eip”! went the stitches, “thump^ — 
rattle,” his heels on the carpet, “ hop, hop,” whirled 
Cassell around the room, until finally he paused breath- 
lessly, having accomplished the feat. At that moment 
a newsboy on the street called out the morning paper, 
and Cassell, still clinging to the waistband of his 
pants, hobbled over to the window, threw up the sash, 
and leaning over the sill, called out to the urchin, 
“ Here, youngster, toss us up one,” at the same time 
dropping a small coin to the pavement. As the news- 
paper went whirling by him into the room, Cassell 
lowered the sash, turned around, grasped the pants 
again by the waistband, raised his other foot, plunged 
it into the other leg of the pants, and again went hop- 
ping around the room, straining every muscle in pulling 
at the waistband, until at last he sank down in his easy 
chair, thoroughly exhausted by his violent exercise, 
but he had suceeeded in forcing both feet through the 


312 


THE FICKLE GODDESS SMILES. 


legs of his pants without splitting the knees. And so 
in order he put on each article of clothing, until all 
had been properly arranged on his person, and then he 
seized his hat, opened the door, passed down the stairs 
and out on the street. 

Yes, that elegantly dressed gentleman walking 
hurriedly along was indeed Leo Cassell, but no longer 
an occupant of the miserable room in the deserted build- 
ing on the wharf, nor did he, as formerly, toil there 
early and late, or, indeed, at all, to eke out a miserable 
livelihood. Certainly his condition had improved 
wonderfully, and to all appearances, the forty years of 
his life had shrunken to twenty-five, for even the 
wrinkles on his face had been smoothed down by the 
kind hand of good fortune. 

What fortunate circumstances had raised Leo Cas- 
sell from the squalid misery in which he had so long 
toiled and groveled, patiently, hopefully, persistently 
maintaining his honor and integrity amid sore trials 
and temptations. Had the fickle goddess. Fortune^ 
suddenly dashed at his feet a shower of gold, and had 
he only to reach out his hands and gather his own ? 
Yes, those were the plain facts. After Jimmie’s death, 
Cassell was Kalph Skinner’s only heir, and through 
Judge Dudley’s kind assistance, Skinner’s entire estate 
passed quietly into his possession. Therefore, what 
wonder if Cassell was spruce and spry, and if the light 
of his eyes had changed from the sad to the gay, if his 
feet kept time to the musical chime of the tune, “ Drive 
dull care away?” Yes, he was happy, for grim want 
had vanished before the smiles and winsome glances 
of radiant, bright-eyed, jewel-handed Fortune. He had 
been tried in the fire and found pure, weighed in the 


THE FICKLE GODDESS SMILES. 313 

scales and found true, and the goddess had opened to him 
the portals of a new existence. 

“ Yes, I must get those letters this morning,’’ he said, 
as he hurried along the streets, “ I must find them if 
possible. No great consequence to be sure, but I don't 
care to have her letters laying around loosely, for any- 
thing which her hands have touched is sacred, bless 
her. I think the letters are in the old box where I 
kept my — well the rags I called shirts, and that dull 
saw I called a razor,” and he passed his hand over the 
scars on his face which that tool had inflicted. 

Ten minutes later he crossed the bridge and turned 
into an alley, passed along it half a square and then 
turned into a narrow passage-way between tall build- 
ings. It was the short route to the rear stairs of the 
old building in which he had so long lived utterly alone 
save the rats, between whom and Cassell a real friend- 
ship existed, for the rats had learned to like the lone 
occupant of the lonely room, and he, good soul, never 
invaded their rights in the least. They ran over him 
while he slept, but never bit him; they played around 
his feet while he worked, and danced to the merry tunes 
he whistled, and so Cassell and the rats were indeed a 
happy and harmonious family. 

As he passed along down the narrow passage-way 
and turned a sharp angle of the building, he was sud- 
denly confronted by a man clad in rags and covered 
with mud and ashes, whose face and hands were wounded 
and bleeding, and Cassell felt the cold point of a pistol 
barrel pressed against his forehead, and a husky voice 
hiss the words, ‘‘‘Die! miserable dog!^^ Cassell stood 
perfectly still and looked wonderingly on the white 
face before him, a face that was both familiar and 


314 FICKLE GODDESS SMILES. 

strange. He had seen it somewhere, some time — where 
or when, he could not recall, and he had heard that 
voice, but wonderful changes had taken place in both. 
As he glanced along the bright pistol barrel, he saw 
that the weapon was not cocked, and even smiled as he 
observed the nervous forefinger tugging at the trigger. 
At that instant also he recognized the man, and, reach- 
ing up, grasped the weapon and wrung it from his 
hand. However, erehe could anticipate the movement, 
the man sprang backward, drew another pistol from his 
belt, cocked and leveled it at Cassell’s head. “ I’ve got 
you now,” hissed Barry, as his forefinger tremblingl}'' 
reached for the trigger; “ I’ve got you now, and I’ll 
give your vile body to the worms and your soul to 
— ” “ Just wait a moment, if you please,” interrupted 

Cassell, smiling and folding his arms. “Just wait a 
minute or two while I figure the distance I shall have 
to travel. Let me see, how far is it to the moon? ” 

Barry’s finger retreated to his palm, and a ghastly 
smile came on his face. Notwithstanding the bitter 
hatred which rankled in his heart, he could not resist 
feelings of profound admiration for the man before 
him, the man wdio could bravely, calmly, face death 
and perpetrate a joke, even while the finger of a des- 
perate antagonist trembled toward the hair-trigger of a 
pistol, pointed at his head. Yes, Barry smiled, chuck- 
led, and finally broke forth in a hollow, awful laugh, a 
veritable wail of agony. 

“ Why do you wish to take my life, Barry?” inquired 
Cassell, soothinglv, ‘‘ and what would it profit you? 
If you discharge that pistol you become a murderer, 
and your arrest and punishment will be swift and sure. 
As it is, even if you should be arrested (which you may 


THE FICKLE GODDESS SMILES. 315 

possibly avoid), the extreme penalty for the crime of 
which you are charged would be imprisonment. Per- 
mit me to remove the temptation, Barry,” and he 
reached up and took the pistol from the feeble, quiver- 
ing hand which held it. “Now,Bariy,” continued Cas- 
sell in a pleasant tone, “ I shall be generous. You have 
nothing to fear from me. True, you are an awful sin- 
ner, a fugitive from justice, and, according to the strict 
requirements of the law, it is plainly my duty to arrest 
you. But, from your appearance, I judge that you have 
suffered enough already, and I propose to temper jus- 
tice with mercy. Barry, it is not impossible for you 
to reform. You are young, educated and talented, and 
the way to honor and affluence is broad and open before 
you. At least, it is not too much to anticipate that 
you will become what you once were — an honest man.” 

“ IS'ow I will place you where you will be safe from 
pursuit, will provide for your wants, sacredly preserve 
the secret of your whereabouts, and at the proper time 
(of which I must be the judge), will place you beyond 
the limits of this city a free man, if you will faithfully 
promise that henceforth you will earnestly strive to 
reform. Do you promise?” 

‘‘Yes, Cassell,” replied Barry in a tremulous, husky 
whisper, “yes, Cassell, in the presence of God I swear.” 

“I believe you, Barry. I believe you are sincere, 
and I have confidence in your ability to succeed (in a 
gentler tone). “It is never too late to mend,” he added, 
encouragingly, “ never too late to mend,” and he took 
Barry by the hand and led him up the dark stairway 
to his old quarters in the upper story of the "deserted 
building. 


CHAPTEE XXYL 


Cupid’s conquest at the palace of the avenue. 

A year had passed since the eventful night on which 
Michael Snoozer had fought his last desperate fight and 
died with a hiss of defiance on his lips, the night on 
which Charles Barry had fought a fierce battle with 
legions of wharf rats in the cellar of the old building in 
which Leo Cassell had so long lived alone. A year! 
ah me, what changes are often wrought in human affairs, 
in one brief twelve-month. 

Wonderful moral transformations often occur almost 
instantaneously. Sometimes persons of very evil tend- 
encies, by God’s mercy and the exercise of His power, 
are, like Saul of Tarsus, brought face to face with the 
Holy of Holies, and commanded to enter into the vine- 
yard of the Lord and labor there. 

So it was with Edward Grube (Foxey no longer), for 
as he prayed that night by the still form of little Jim, 
his child, evil departed from him, and that ^^sweet peace 
that passeth all understanding ” came into his Iieart 
and he arose, as the pale light of a new day came in at 
his window — arose to a new and better life. 

Yes, a year had passed, and during that time, Edward 
Grube had become noted for his zeal in the cause of the 
Holy Man of Xazareth, and thousands had listened to 
his matchless eloquence as he stood before them a val- 
iant and powerful advocate of his Lord and Master. 
Yes he had become a devout Christian, and a strong 
pillar of the church. The dying prayer of his child as 
316 


CUPID'S CONQUEST. 


317 


it trembled from its -white lips, “Oli God, have mercy 
on my poor dear papa and make him good, that we 
jnay live together in heaven,’^ was the entering wedge 
which had opened Edward Grube’s heart and permitted 
a flood of holiness to pour in and wash it clean and 
pure. 

Of course Grube’s former dissolute companions scoffed 
at his wonderful moral reformation, and dubbed him the 
“ praying gambler” and yet those same persons would 
creep into the daily noon prayer meeting, and in 
respectful silence listen to the wonderfully eloquent 
words which flowed from his lips. And so every day 
at noon, during that year, Edward Grube had knelt 
there and prayed i n the presence of listening multitudes. 
Among the many who daily attended those meetings, 
none were more interested than Judge Dudley. He 
had ever been an earnest Christian and a noble worker 
for the Lord, but he had taken more interest in those 
meetings since Grube’s conversion, for he had become 
satisfied of the thoroughness of his conversion and 
deeply interested in him. During the latter half of 
the year, Grube had been a frequent and most welcome 
visitor at the Palace of the Avenue, and a warm earn- 
est friendship had sprung up between him and the 
inmates thereof. 

Yes, a year had glided silently by, moistening those 
cheeks with tears of grief, lighting up this face with 
smiles, those eyes with gleams of joy, contorting that 
brow with agony and leaving its records of joy or woe 
on every human heart. 

A year, and the great bells of the city chimed eight, 
that beautiful, moonlight night, and wooing perfumed 
ze{)hyrs sighed among the branches and rustled the 


CUPID'S CONQUEST. 


318 

leaves of the trees along the street, as Edward Grube 
ascended the brood flight of stone steps of the Palace 
of the Avenue, and rang the door-bell. Was that jflain 
gentleman, dressed in a suit of plain black, standing there 
with the bright moonlight shining full upon him, was 
that indeed, the Foxey Grube of a year previous? 
Where was that heavy diamond cluster ring which he 
formerly wore on the middle finger of his left hand, 
and that elegant solitaire pin which used to glitter on 
his bosom? Gone! gone with his vanity, gone! Ilis 
hand had barely touched the bell-pull when his sum- 
mons, as though anticipated, was answered. Did some 
one expect him ? and had somebody been waiting with 
feverish anxiety and impatience — watching and wait- 
ing there in the front parlor behind the half-closed 
blinds the past half hour? Who opened the door before 
the sleepy servant could rub open his eyes and stagger 
to his feet from his chair in the back hall? and who 
clasped Edward Grube’s hand and led him into the 
dimly lighted parlor, just before that sleepy servant 
turned the angle of the hall and went shuffling along 
toward the front door ? Who but the beautiful Kate 
Dudley, even Kate. 

Since the day of Grube’s return from the involuntary 
voyage on which Snoozer and his confederates had 
launched him from the bridge, Grube had made no 
love advances toward Miss Dudley. 

On the contrary, he had been very guarded in her 
presence, even when his heart pulsated wildly, for, 
although he had become a pure, good man, he was but 
human — mortal, and as love is of divine origin, did he sin 
if he yielded somewhat to its sweet pure influences in 
the presence of that loving, beautiful woman ? Ilowbeit, 


curin' S CONQUEST. 


319 


he kept his own counsels, and his calm exterior did not 
betray the yearnings of his heart. A slight flush on 
cheeks and a sudden lighting up of eyes was all that 
might have been discovered of the tidal wave of emo- 
tion, otherwise he was only a frank, generous friend. 

I am glad you have come, Mr. Grube,” said Miss 
Dudley, as they sat by the front window where the 
bright moonlight streamed in upon them. “ I am glad 
you have come, for I have felt quite lonely this evening, 
and have been sitting here looking out on the street 
and Avondering if wishing Avould bring you here 
to-night.” 

‘•And you have been sitting here wishing that I 
might come, watching every approaching form, every 
flitting shadow, hoping it might be me? ” 

“ And why not ? ” 

“ And why ?” 

“ Yo^i must solve that problem, Edward.” 

“ Edward f ” 

“ Why not Edward ? ” 

“ Because I have never dared to hope that you would 
»"er learn to address me thus familiarly.” 

“And why have you never dared to indulge in that 
hope ? ” 

“ Need I say ? I can not give you a clear and satis- 
factory answer, for to do so would be to recall the bit- 
ter regrets I feel because of my wretched and sinful life. 
1 can only explain briefly by saying that socially we 
have been separated by an almost impassable barrier.” 

She placed her soft, Avarm hand timidly oaw his 
mouth, and, bending toAA^ard him, looked steadily, 
searchingly into his face. 

A silence ensued — a profound, eloquent silence, dur- 


CUPID'S CONQUEST. 


320 

ing which two spirits in the flesh held sweet commun- 
ion, and through their mortal windows silent answers 
flashed replies to silent questions. 

As they sat there in the moonlight, holding silent 
converse, her mind, like an open book, was before him, 
and he read her thoughts. She was thinking of his 
regeneration and of his new and noble life, and that 
thereby he had become her equal, and it Avas a blissful 
realization to him. 

‘‘ And if we are now equal, Kate, why may we not 
become one ? ” was his audible response. 

A crimson flush came upon her face, and she sat still 
and silent, looking upward at the fleecy clouds drifting 
across the milky-Avay. It was a talking silence as the 
soft light of modest Luna shone on their upturned 
faces. It AA^as a silence of vibrating, thrilling force, 
Avhich swept along the harp-strings of tAvo souls set to 
the same SAveet music. 

She moved her hand, and he felt a shock as though 
he had grasped the Avires of an electric battery and 
she had turned the Avheel. He put out his hand toAA^ard 
her and it trembled. She placed her~^hand in his, and 
it Avas soft and Avarm and trembled also. 

“ Kate, Avill you be my Avife? he said. 

“ Yes, Edward, loving and true.” 

“ God bless you, darling.” 

“ He is blessing me noAv.” 

And modest Luna veiled her face Avith a fleecy cloud, 
and Zephyr stopped his ears and ceased to sigh. 

Just here the pen in its impatience cuts through the 
paper, makes a blot, and, bending up its sharp prongs, 
says to the AA^riter, “Beware, friend, lest Ave spoil the 
dish Avith too much spice. I am Aveary, let us rest,” 


CHAPTER XXYD. 


CUPID GAINS ANOTHER VICTORY. 

A nd why not ? I say, Rudolph, why not ? But Pin 
a queer body, have become so used to losses and crosses, 
ups and downs (more downs than ups), starvation and 
disappointment, that I almost feel guilty in accepting 
the wealth and happiness so suddenly given to me by 
THE KIND Father of all. I feel as though I am taking 
that which does not by right belong to me, and yet, 
when I go over the whole ground, I see that the prop- 
erty is indeed mine, and yet it seems so singular that I 
should possess anything except in imagination. But 
that is nothing here or there. Grace, God bless the 
darling, is good, pure, true and beautiful, and will 
make somebody a charming wife. Upon my word, I 
believe I know of a ])arty who would make any possi- 
ble sacrifice to win her and — and I say, why not, 
Rudolph, everything is just pleasant, comfortable, 
plenty of this world’s goods, couldn’t spend the inter- 
est, to say nothing of the principal. Then why not, 
Rudolph ? but, my friend, do you think she would be 
willing to take me for better or for worse, eh ?” 

‘‘ Leo, you are the most consummate simpleton lever 
knew. Quite complimentary, I confess, but true. You 
are as verdant as a country lad, and possess very little 
self-confidence. Why, Leo, give your wealth to some 
men, and they would trample down their fellows, stand 
upon the necks of groaning hundreds and lord it over 
all with whom they might become associated. In "-heiff 
321 


322 


CUPID GAINS ANOTHER VICTORY. 


opinion every woman in the city would be dying to 
become Mrs. Whatnot, and they wouldn’t be so simple 
as to go to a friend with the inquiry, ‘ do 3^ou think 
she’ll take me ?’ Bah ! 

“ Take, you, Leo ? Why bless your soul and body in 
this and the future world. Of course she’ll have you, 
if 3^ou will only screw up sufficient courage to pop. 
A\^hy, I tell 3^ou, Leo, and I never lied to you in m}^ 
life, which I am sure you’ll be willing to swear on a 
stack of Bibles as high as the Custom House. I tell 
3'ou, my boy, she has always loved you. You see, Leo, 
I have wrestled with this problem, beaten the bush to 
drive out ideas on the subject, and, from what informa- 
tion I can gather in reference to the matter, I have 
unanimously arrived at the conclusion which has con- 
firmed in me that belief; ‘ Straws sometimes show 
which way the wind blows,’ and as I know the lady 
well, have known her ever since she was knee high to a 
duck, a perfect jewel, sweet as a rose and prett\^ as a 
full ripe peach, and her mother — halloo ! where am I 
drifting to, Leo? What was my original subject, that 
is, what was the particular idea which I first attempted 
to elucidate ? Your wine is blasted strong, you know. 
What was I talking about anyhow ?” 

‘‘I asked if you really believe that Grace Wor^harA 
would even so much as think of marrying such an 
ungainly and incomprehensible specimen of humanity 
as Leo Cassell.” 

“ Marry you, Leo ? Why, what are 3^ou talking 
about ? Are you raving crazj^ ? Marri; you ? I’ll tell 
you what I’ll do, Lll bet any man a new silk hat that, 
like Widow Brown, when old Broodus popped, she’ll say 
‘yes, dear, and thank 3"e too.’ You just pop and see. 


CUPJD GAINS ANOTHER VICTORY. 353 

that’s my advice. Why, I tell you, Old Modesty, a 
summer trout never snapped at a tly with one-half the 
earnestness, aye, the eagerness with which she Avould 
accept your proposition to splice.’’ 

“ But you forget that she also is wealthy now, Mark 
Barry’s estate is all hers, or will be eventually.” 

“Bah! what difference does that make? Ila-ha- 
ha 1 I was thinking of that the other night, and I 
made Dolly turn her face over to me and I said, ‘how 
funny it is old sweetness,’ and then she pinched me 
because I called her old, and threatened to get up and 
sit in the rocker by the window all night. But I 
coaxed her, and explained that 1 used the word ‘ old,"^ 
not in its literal sense, but as a pet word, a term of 
endearment, and she concluded to lie still and listen to 
what I had to say. Let me see — what did I say — oh ! 
— oh, yes! Ha-ha-ha! I said to Dolly, ‘how awful 
funny it is that the Skinner and Barry estates, during 
the past forty years, have been making desperate but 
ineffectual efforts to consolidate. For forty years, 
Barry and Skinner, in a metaphorical sense, have had 
each other by the throat, each trying to gobble up the 
other’s estate. Sharp old coons both, and dead and 
worm-eaten now, both. But the funny part comes in 
here. Those two estates have always appeared to be 
courting, in a double sense, at law, and in love, the 
former in furtherance of the latter. Metaphorically, 
Barry’s was the girl and Skinner’s the boy, and they 
have always wanted to splice and pull at the same tow- 
line. ‘How, old sweetness,’ said I, to Dolly, and bless 
your soul, Leo, but she pinched me again for calling 
her old, and said I, ‘ It’s blasted funny that those two 
young folks, Leo and Grace are heels over head in love 


324 CUPID GAINS ANOTHER VICTORY. 

with each other, just doubled up with it, as a touch 
of cramp colic does to a body.’ Kow Ijere’s the laugh- 
ing place. She has the Barry estate, he the Skinner 
estate, and blamed if they aren’t bound to get married, 
and then at last, those loving estates will be spliced 
and so thoroughly mixed up that nobody will be able 
to tell one from the other, just as the angels will be 
puzzled to find out which is which, when Dolly and I 
apply for admittance up there. Yes, those estates will 
be spliced at last, for Skinner and Barry have ceased 
to have any influence whatever in the matter.’ Ha- 
ha-ha ! it is a splendid joke, no mistake, ha-ha — ! 
Why don’t you laugh ? ” 

Cassell, who was standing by the center- table and 
looking down on his friend who sat in an easy chair 
toying with a wine-glass, smiled at Merryfellow’s 
inquiry made in a quizzical tone and manner, and finally 
laughed heartily as Merryfellow rocked to and fro 
in his chair, giving vent to his delight in shouts of 
laughter, while he held his sides with both hands, and 
tears ran down his face. 

They were sitting in Cassell’s elegant apartment at 
the Tremont House. Merryfellow had simply made 
an informal call on his friend, merely stopped on his 
way home after business hours, and, as usual, had 
taken a sip of wine. But, on this occasion, Cassell had 
mixed in brandy, about half and half with the wine, 
merely for a joke on Merryfellow and to loosen his 
tongue, and, having imbibed freely, that gentleman 
was in exceedingly good humor. 

“ Come now, Leo,” said Merryfellow, rising from his 
chair and Aviping the tears from his face with the back 
of his hand, ‘‘Come noAV, old fel., I’m going to take you 


CUPID GAPVS ANOTHER VICTORY. 325 

home me, and then somewhere else. Dollie and 
I will put you through a course of training of which 
you never so much as even dreamed. We’ll make a 
man of you, tie you up, tuck 3 ’ou in snugly, and if you 
ever cease to bless this day, I shall begin to suspect 
that you are not the man I have always believed you 
to be. Ha-ha-ha! Fun ahead, boys; real, genuine, 
rollicking, wild fun, with a strong spicing of earnest- 
ness in it and a world of happiness as the sequel. Eh? 
Old chum, God bless you, I say. Ha-ha-ha 1 I’ll 
take you under my wing now; you’re my prisoner for 
an hour, and when I leave you to the tender mercies of 
another — well, what's the use to anticij)ate ? And I 
see you do not understand me. Well enough, perhaps, 
that 3 mu don’t, else you might prove troublesome. 
Come now,” and he seized Cassell, lifted him in his 
arms as though he were a baby, carried him down stairs, 
lifted him into a carriage, got in himself, closed the 
door, and then they were whirled away rapidly toward 
the western portion of the city. 

“AV ell, what do you propose to do with me, Eudolph ? ” 
queried Cassell, as he clung to the hand-strap of the 
carriage to keep from plunging headlong forward, as 
they were then dashing along at a breakneck speed 
over a newly -paved street. “ What do you propose to 
do?” 

“Proimse to do with you, Leo? I’ll show you by 
and by; just curb your impatience and make yourself 
easy for the present. Ha-ha! I have you in the 
tightest place, old fel., you were ever in. I’ll guarantee. 
Hallo there !” he shouted to the driver, ‘^Haul up at 
Ho. T2 on next square ! ” Aye, aye, sir,” was the 
rephq as the carriage wheels dashed down into a gutter 


326 CUPID GAINS ANOTHER VICTORY. 

crossing and bounded violently over the bridge stones, 
“Aye, aye, sir!” and Merryfellow, who had let go 
the hand-strap, plunged head foremost to the front of 
the carriage and doubled up backward on the floor. 

“Here you are, Mr. Merryfellow,” called out the 
driver, as he drew rein close to the pavement, before a 
very handsome dwelling. “ Here ye are, sir.” “All 
right, my boy,” sputtered Hudolph, as he arose from 
the floor of the carriage and scrambled to the pave- 
ment. “And now, look you here, Ben, get down off 
that seat and guard this prisoner. This chap in here 
I’ve arrested for false pretenses, and if you let him 
escape I’ll break your back — do you hear ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Do you Jieed ! ” 

“Bather,” was the laughing reply. 

“Well, you’d better,” muttered Merry fellow, threat- 
eningly, as he stumbled along the paved walk, up the 
broad flight of stone steps and rang the door-bell. 

His summons was answered by a very fleshy, rosy- 
faced, bald-headed, old gentleman in dressing gown 
and slippers. 

“Why — why, I declare, good evening, Mr. Merr}^- 
fellow,” were the words uttered with precise pronunci- 
ation, which greeted Budolph as the door opened. 
“ How do you do, Mr. Merryfellow ? ” 

“ 7ery well, Mr. Boggs, quite well, thank you. I’ve 
come to gobble you up, sir, just as you are. Do you 
see that carriage? Well, I’ve a chap in there, whom 
I’ve just arrested for false pretenses. He’s a hard cus- 
tomer, Mr. Boggs, a desperate character, sir, and I 
want you to lend a hand to help put him where by 
right he belongs.” 


CUPID GAINS ANOTHER VICTORY. 


327 


“Eeally — really, Mr. Merryfellow, I — I am very 
much engaged at present,” replied the gentleman. “I 
— I couldn't be of much service to you, anyhow, I 
would advise you to find a police officer, th — that 
would be the best plan, Mr. Merryfellow,” and as he 
stammered out the words, hystericall}", Mr. Boggs’ 
face became white and crimson, alternately. 

“You won’t go, then?” queried Merryfellow, 
abruptly. 

“Ileally, I could not; very sorry, but very busily 
engaged — Saturday, you know, and my notes not yet 
completed. I — oh — ah — hump! Merc}^, how warm,” 
and he mopped the perspiration from his face with a 
very large handkerchief, which he drew from the 
breast pocket of his dressing gown. “Ah I gracious 
goodness, what on earth — oh ! ” 

Merryfellow had seized the reverend gentleman, 
lifted him in his arms as he 'would have done a child, 
hurried down the paved walk, kicked open the front 
gate, and with his burden still in his arms, sprang into 
the carriage, closed the door and shouted to the driver, 
who had climbed to his seat, Turn west on the next 
street, Ben, and stop at 417. Let ’em out now, you 
beggar, we don’t want to be all night on the way.” 

“Aye, aye, sir,” came the reply, as the whip cracked 
and the horses sprang forward with such violence as to 
lift the carriage wheels clear of the pavement, throw- 
ing the reverend gentleman forward into Merryfel- 
low’s arms. 

“Set ’em up again, all down but nine,” shouted Mer- 
ryfellow, as he deposited Mr. Boggs on the front seat. 
“ Set ’em up, I say ! Ila-ha-ha I aren’t this jolly ?” 

The reverend gentleman protested vehemently 


328 CUPID GAIXS ANOTHER VICI'ORY. 

against being thus rudely torn from the bosom of his 
family, and away from his Bible and sermon, expostu- 
lated pathetically to the hair-brained Merry fellow, and 
Avith a deep-drawn sigh, ended with : ‘‘ It is all well 
enough to frolic occasionally — it is well enough, I say, 
but there is a proper time for everything, sir, a proper 
time, Mr. Merryfellow, ahem!” 

Cassell added his voice in vigorous English, rated 
Merr^^fellow soundly, and made numerous demands, 
ending with, “ What crazy freak have you taken now % 
In the name of common sense and decenc}^ let me 
entreat you to pause and consider what you are doing. 
I’ve half a mind to get angry; I declare, such conduct 
is perfectly outrageous. I don’t understand your move- 
ments at all, and I protest against such nonsensical 
proceedings.’’ 

Merryfellow was deaf to the complaints of his pris- 
oners, and in order to drown their voices, laughed, 
whistled and scolded at the driver incessantly. 

“ Here you are, Mr. Merryfellow,” shouted Ben, 
from his place on the box, as the carriage suddenly 
stopped by the pavement. ‘‘ Here you are, sir.” “ Get 
down, you rascal,” shouted Merryfellow in reply, and 
as the driver complied and opened the carriage door, 
Kudolph sprang out, grasped his arm and said, hastily, 
“ Ben, I have two of ’em in there noAv, and I’m going 
to fetch another. Am snapping ’em up all around, you 
see, ha-ha! Now look you here, Ben,” continued 
Merryfellow, giving the driver a vigorous shake. 
‘‘ Mind what I tell you now. If a^ou let those chaps 
get away from you, I’ll break your back, and scalp you 
in the bargain, do you hear ? Mind now, Avatch ’em 
close, for they’re desperate characters.” 


CUPID GAINS ANOTHEP VICTORY. 


329 


Having thus delivered his injunctions and commands 
with mock earnestness of manner and tone, accompa- 
nied by sundry nods and winks, Merryfellow hurried 
through the front gate and up the steps of his own 
home. As he reached out his hand to grasp the knob, 
the door suddenly opened and Mrs. Merryfellow stood 
before him, smiling a joyous welcome. Just so she had 
always welcomed him home since the twain became 
one in flesh and spirit, and in like manner he had 
always in return folded her in his arms and kissed her. 
As she fluttered from his grasp, with scarlet face and 
tingling nerves, as usual, he said, hastily, ‘‘Come, Dollie 
dear, put on your hat and wrappings, I want you to go 
with me. Come, be quick. I’m in an awful hurry. 
Do be quick,” he added, impatiently, as she hesitated, 
“ I want you right away.” 

“But, Budolph, dear,” she expostulated, “what do 
you want of me ? AVhere will you go ? What will 
become of baby ? and tea is all ready, and — oh me ! 
Dolphy dear — Dolphy ! I say, oh !” He had lifted 
her in his arms, and though she laughed and struggled 
to escape his grasp, rushed down the front steps, 
through the gate, over the pavement, into the carriage 
and closed the door. Then he put his head out of the 
carriage window, gave some hasty directions to the 
driver, and immediately the whip cracked, the horses 
sprang forward and they were whirled away over the 
uneven pavement at break-neck speed. 

How, Mrs. Merryfellow was one of the sweetest and 
purest lambs of Mr. Boggs’ spiritual flock, and her 
astonishment at beholding, there in the carriage in 
such untidy and undress apparel, her beloved pastor, 
was indeed boundless. For several minutes she was 


330 CUPID GAINS ANOTHER VICTORY, 

utterly speechless, and when words came to her relief, 
ideas failed to respond, and after lisping a few discon- 
nected sentences, she cuddled down by her husband 
and became silent. But Mr. Boggs still expostulated 
and begged piteously to be released and returned to the 
sorrowing bosom of his family, and his unfinished ser- 
mon, while Cassell grumbled and importuned Merry- 
fellow with questions as to his designs, the while evi- 
dentl}^ laboring under severe nervous excitement. 
‘‘ What do you intend to do, Kudolph ? I pray you 
stop and reflect just one moment. For goodness sake 
my friend, don’t attempt anything rash ; you know 
you are not}" ourself now — blast that wine and brandy. 
I’ll never do it again — no, I never will. I — oh dear me 
— dear me !” and so the confusion and strife continued 
until the carriage drew up before an elegant mansion, 
and the driver called out, Here you are Mr. Merry- 
fellow, sir, here you are.” 

There was another carriage before the mansion, evi- 
dently having just arrived, as it moved forward to allow 
the Merryfellow party to alight. Doubtless other 
callers had arrived, and were at that moment being 
entertained in the front parlor which was brilliantly 
illuminated, and from w"hence, through the polished 
plate glass windows, floods of soft gaslight swept down 
over the pavement half across the street. 

Merryfellow took all in at a glance as he stepped out 
on the pavement, paused irresolutely, and gazed up into 
the marble vestibule. But his indecision was merely 
momentarily, and turning to his party in the carriage 
said, ‘‘Now, Dolly dear, and gentlemen, if you will 
alight and enter this mansion I will esteem such act an 
especial personal favor. Permit me, Dollie,” and 


cur ID GAINS ANOTHER TIC TORY. 


he put out his hand to Ins little wife, who sat looking 
wistfully out at the carriage door. “ Permit me, 
Dollie,” he repeated, as she glanced beseechingly into 
his face and hesitated. 

Oh, Eudolpli dear, I can’t go in there as I am. 
What do you intend to do ^ ” and she drew back to 
the opposite side of the carriage, and grasped the side 
strap. Mr. Boggs protested vehemently, Mr. Cassell 
added the weight of his objections in a weak, quivering 
tone, and the rebellion became open and vigorous. 

“ Ben,” said Merryfellow, addressing the driver, 
“ move up a little and hitch your team, I need your 
muscle. I^ow Ben,” continued Budolph, when the 
driver had complied and stood ready to execute any 
commands. ‘‘ Now, my boy, snatch those two chaps 
out of that carriage if they won’t come voluntarily; no 
fooling now; do as I tell you,” and Merryfellow 
reached into the carriage and took his refractory little 
wife in his arms, lifted her from the carriage, and put 
her down on the pavement, still holding her by the 
hand. “ Now, gentlemen,” said the driver firmly, but 
respectfully, “ will yon alight, or will I be compelled 
to assist you? ” Thank you, thank you,” responded 
Mr. Boggs, as he crept from the carriage, ‘‘ thank 
you, no assistance required.” Much obliged, but I 
can get out without help,” said Cassell, as he meekly 
followed the reverend gentleman. ‘‘Keep a sharp 
watch or thej^’ll get away from you Ben,” commanded 
Merryfellow, as he opened the gate. “ Look sharp, I 
say.” “ Aye, aye, sir,” was the confident response, and 
then the party ascended the broad flight of stone steps 
Mr. and Mrs. Merryfellow leading, the two gentlemen 
meekly following, and the stalwart driver last, acting 


332 cur ID GAINS ANOTHER VICTORY. 

as rear guard, and holding up the butt end of his whip 
menacingly. Merryfellow rang the bell violently, and 
as the door opened, dashed by the astonished servant, 
rushed into the parlor leading Mrs. Merryfellow by the 
hand, and followed by Messrs. Boggs and Cassell. 

As they entered, Grace Worsham came quickly for- 
ward with a cordial welcome. Of course, she was very 
much astonished by their very odd appearance, partic- 
ularly the decidedly undress apparel of the Keverend 
Mr. Boggs. She cast a quick questioning glance at 
Mrs. Merryfellow, and, in return, received only a blank, 
confused stare, turned to Cassell with the same silent 
interrogation — not the least explanation there, and 
then she glanced sharply at Merryfellow, who advanced, 
took her hand in his and said, in a thick voice which 
betrayed his condition, “ My dear Miss Grace, I knew 
you when you were a baby. I used to hang around 
you when you were but a little chick and wore bibs, 
used to swing you when you were a trifle older, and 
had half a mind to make love to you when you put on 
long dresses. But, Dolly, God bless her, stepped in 
and spoiled that fun, and we, you and I, have each 
been going our own happy ways. Now, my little 
bird, I am old enough to be your papa, and having, as 
Dollie knows, always been your sincere friend, I can 
talk to you, as that young chap over there (pointing 
to Cassell) could not do, probably, without incurring 
your displeasure. Ye-e-s,” he drawled, pressing 
her hand kindly, “ye-e-s. Well, as Dolly knows, I 
have always taken a deep interest in your welfare, and 
now I want to make you perfectly happy. Grace, I 
have brought you a husband, here he is,” and Merry- 
fellow reached back, grasped Cassell by the shoulder 


CUPID GAINS ANOTHER VICTOR V. 


333 


and drew him forward. That gentleman stammered 
confusedly, blushed, hung his head like a bashful 
schoolboy and twirled his thumbs, while Grace stood 
blushing, and trembling like a frightened fawn. 

A silence ensued, painful, oppressive, but fortunately 
brief, and then Cassell, with quick, nervous movements, 
advanced, grasped Grace Worsham’s hand and said, 
“ This is no alfair of mine — or at least has not been 
planned, or executed by me, voluntarily, for, until this 
moment, I have not been aware of the precise inten- 
tions of my friend, MerrjTellow. But as it has gone 
thus far, I do not see how I can do better than attempt 
to consummate what was intended by our noble, but 
at present, slightly muddled friend. Grace, I love 
3^ou, and if you reciprocate and are willing to take me 
just as I am, and now, here is my hand, my heart you 
have already.” Her mother stood by her side, and as 
Grace glanced timidly, questioningly up into her face, 
the old lady turned to Cassell, whose beseeching look 
she could not resist, and, turning to her daughter with 
a smile, she nodded assent. Then Grace Worsham 
turned to Cassell and said in a clear, distinct voice, 
“ Leo, I love you dearly, and will be your wife.” 

“ How ? ” queried Cassell, eagerly. 

“ How ! ” she answered, smiling through tears of joy. 

‘‘ Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! ” shouted Merry fellow, 
as he whirled around the room swinging his hat above 
his head, “ Hurrah ! that is business all over ! ” 

Standing a little aside from the main group were 
two persons — a gentleman and lady, who had been 
silent and deeply interested spectators of that informal 
yet earnest plighting of troth. They conversed in 
whispers not audible to the others, and in questioning 


331 


CUPID GAINS ANOTHER VICTORY. 


glances and replies, such as only lovers can under- 
stand or appreciate. They had evidently formed new 
determinations there and then, and only awaited the 
opportunity to announce the same to the company. 
Therefore, when Merry fellow had sufficiently ventil- 
ated his enthusiasm, and under the soothing influences 
of little Dollie’s caresses and words of caution reduced to 
lamb-like submission and tractability, Edward Grube 
stepped forward, leading Kate Dudley by the hand, 
and said, “Friends, as this pleasant affair has progressed 
so far, Kate and I beg to announce that in accordance 
with previous intentions, not clearly defined as to 
time, we have settled the doubtful part of the vexed 
question, even while Grace and Leo were arriving at 
their understanding. We have concluded that if they 
can so confidently enter upon the responsibilities and 
hazards involved in the holy relations, which must 
ever hereafter exist between them, certainly we can 
do the same, and, therefore, you are invited to attend, 
at the residence of Judge Dudley, next Wednesday 
evening, a ceremony in which we ‘twain will be made 
one flesh.’ In spirit we are one already.” 

“Hurrah! hurrah! shouted Merryfellow, breaking 
away from the grasp of his little wife. “ Hurrah,” 
he shouted again and again, swinging his hat above his 
head and endeavoring to perform a clog dance. “ Ha- 
ha ! that’s good — splendid, but say, fellows and girls — 
can’t somebody else get married — bless my soul there 
is Mrs. Worsham and Mr. Boggs, what do you sa}^ 
folkses, can’t we make that arrangement just to make 
a complete job of it, and not leave anybody with ‘no 
one to love?’ Being reminded by little Dollie, in 
whispers, that Mr. Boggs’ wife and nine small children 


CUPID GAINS ANOTHER VICTORY. 


335 


stood boldly and frowningly in the way of such accom- 
modation, Merry fellow relinquished the project at 
once, and, grasping the reverend gentleman by the 
arm and clinging to him for support, leaned over and 
whispered in his ear, “ hfow Mr. Boggs, do your duty 
like a man, and tie the knot double quick, or off goes 
your head, down close to your toes.” 

Are you ready ? ” queried Mr. Boggs, tremulously, 
addressing Cassell and Grace Worsham, and receiving 
an affirmative reply, Mr. Boggs bowed very low, cleared 
his throat, and the ceremony began, while Merry- 
fellow continued to cling to his shoulder, swaying to 
and fro, whispering to Mr. Boggs sundry warnings, 
such as, “Don’t leave out anything, put in that she 
must obey — an important matter, you know; I’m here 
to see this done right, and I won’t have any dodging 
around to accommodate strong-minded women. ]^ot 
that I think Grace would ever be one of that sort, but 
it’s well enough to do the business in a business-like 
manner, and then it’s safe anyhow, so tie ’em tight, old 
fel.; tie ’em tight or I’ll break your back.” 

Finally the last solemn words were spoken, and 
Grace Worsham had become the wife of Leo Cassell. 
Grace Cassell was beautiful as she stood there receiving 
the congratulations of the company, and Cassell, as he 
accepted, awkwardly enough, the congratulations 
showered upon him, really appeared taller, larger and 
3^ounger than when he entered that room as Merry- 
fellow’s prisoner. True, he still remained a prisoner, 
but not to Merryfellow, for love had forged new fetters, 
and a certain Mrs. Cassell held the key. However, he 
seemed to take kindly to his new condition, for he 
kissed his new wife before Mr. Boggs, wffio had pre 


336 CUPID GAINS ANOTHER VICTORY. 


pared to drive in and forestall him, could execute his 
maneuver, putting the laugh on the pastor, most 
decidedly. As the last accents fell from Mr. Boggs’ 
lips, Merryfellow dashed his beaver hat up against 
the ceiling, and as it came down, gave it a kick, sending 
his foot through the crown and rendering it a total 
wreck; clapped his hands; cut the pigeon wing, per- 
formed the Boston Dip and the Giraffe Waddle, kissed all 
the ladies, hugged all the gentlemen, even the servant 
at the door, and finally found his little wdfe, to whom he 
said, as he took her up in his arms, “ Bl-bless your zweet, 
little life; durned if ye aren’t zweeter an gooder ’an all 
on ’em put in a bunch, bless your zweet, little life.” 

The author’s pen has again become refractor}^, abso- 
lutely refusing to go into more minute details, on the 
ground that Leo and Grace, being thoroughly Casselled, 
ought certainly be permitted to manage their domestic 
affairs in their own way, subject only to the ten, or 
rather the eleven commandments, presuming that they 
would in any event obey the eleventh, during their 
honeymoon at least. Yielding that point (reluctantly, 
however) to the pen, the author would fain describe the 
wedding which occurred at the Palace of the Avenue, 
but here again the pen enters a protest, and concludes 
a lengthy argument with these words : Let me give 

you some wholesome advice, friend of the quill, which, 
if you will wisely heed, may save you some sharp, 
stinging criticisms. The epoch of maudlin, sickening 
sentiment is ended. We, the muses, have endured 
those of painting, sculpture, poetry and romance, all 
of which, as specialties, were well enough in their times, 
pandering to the peculiar tastes of their ages, but suc- 
cessively they have given place to new orders, and one 


CUPID GAINS ANOTHER VICTORY, 337 

might as well attempt to infuse life into an Egyptian 
mummy as to revive the tastes or usages of the dead 
past. However, v/e have boiled them all down, and 
reduced them to a solid, amalgamated substance, which 
we shave off and deal out in quantities to suit. The 
fact is, to use a mining parlance, everything has reached 
‘ bed rock,’ and nobody in this age will toy with 
shadows. Facts! facts! friend quill-driver, deal only 
with solid, hard facts ! Illustrate them with fiction if 
you choose, for a little varnish, properly applied wfill 
render an old piece of furniture quite presentable, and 
likewise rough, hard truths may be rounded, pol- 
ished and adorned by the application of a little harm- 
less fiction. But my friend, the advice of the old 
preacher to the young and flowery graduate was good, 
and I will repeat it here for your benefit : ‘ Stick to your 
text, young man; stick to your text.” The pen has the 
case, and the author, making a virtue of necessity, 
gracefully subsides, leaving the reader, who is per- 
fectly familiar wuth the manner in which all weddings 
in high life are conducted, to imagine what the pen 
absolutely refuses to chronicle, merely announcing, 
wuth consent of the pen, and as a substantial fact, 
that Edward Grube and Kate Dudley were married 
and left free to bill and coo, and make love as their 
mutual inclinations might prompt. The wedding 
occurred according to announcement, on that beautiful 
Wednesday evening in June, and the following morning 
Mr. and Mrs. Grube, Mr. and Mrs. Cassell, Mr. and 
Mrs. Merry fellow, Judge Dudley and Mrs. Worsham, 
and a select party of friends boarded a steam yacht 
especially chartered for the purpose, and sailed away 
for a season tour of the beautiful northern lake region. 


CHAPTER XXYin. 


CONCLUSION. 

In the twilight of a cold and dreary November 
evening, a weary tramp, clad in worn and tattered 
garments, plodded slowly along a broad highway 
toward a certain city. Ilis left hand grasped a small 
stick which rested on his left shoulder, and fastened 
to the stick was a small bundle of clothing thus 
suspended over his back. In his right hand he held a 
long staff of hickory, knotted, gnarled and twisted, as 
though during growth it had become dissatisfied, and, 
in stubborn opposition to the course of nature, had 
twisted itself into that ridiculous shape, died and 
remained just so. The staff was long, reaching above 
his head, was heavy and evidently an incumbrance to 
its owner. The upper end was composed of three 
small, limber and crooked stems, branching out from 
the main trunk at a knot which stood on a line with 
the man’s face when the staff stood upright before 
him. That knot was a remarkable natural curiosity, 
inasmuch as it bore a striking resemblance to a human 
head and face. The eyes, nose, mouth, chin, neck 
and even ears were there, and yet that knot grew just 
so, and the' gray, feathery moss, which had gathered 
on it during growth, still clung to its worn and polished 
surface. 

Wearily he toiled up a long slope, over the loose 
stones with which the highway had been freshl}" 
strewn, limped painfull}^ and muttered alternately 
338 


CONCLUSION. 


339 


prayers and oaths, as the sharp edges of the stones 
bruised and cut his feet through the holes in his old 
Avorn shoes. 

Itain had been falling steadily since early dawn, 
had driven him forth from his bed by a friendly hay- 
stack in a field, and during that day the wretched 
wanderer, foot sore, weary and hungry, had traveled 
many weary miles over a rough and lonely w^ay. He 
was weak for want of food, weak from physical 
exhaustion by toil, and as he plodded along, gazed 
wistfully toward the summit, but faintly visible 
through the reluctant, lingering twilight. Tramp, 
tramp, tramp ! Up, upward! until at last he stood 
upon the summit, and beheld the glimmering lights 
of the great city apparently but a short distance 
beyond. 

‘^How far, Witch-o-watch-o-we-chin he said in a 
hoarse, feeble voice, striking the foot of his staff on 
the ground. “How far?” and he brought the knot- 
face before him, and gazed on it questioningly and in 
silence a few moments, when a strong gust of wind 
swept by and bent the three slim prongs above Hie 
knot-head, toward the south. 

“ Ha 1 you won’t talk to-night, eh ? and you motion 
me to walk that way and inquire at yonder house? 
Out on ye, Witch-o watch-o-we-chin. you are very 
unkind. Ah! what is that there? Aha, my good 
fellow, now I understand you,” and patting the knot- 
head affectionately with his hand, he walked over to 
a guide-post which stood on the opposite side of the 
highway but a short distance beyond where another 
road crossed diagonally. 

The guide-post was a strong cross, painted white, 


340 


CONCLUSION. 


and planted firmly in the ground, and lie paused before 
it, gazing up at the black letters tvhich were but 
faintly visible in the gathering darkness. The wind 
flapped the brim of his old tattered wool hat, and 
played with the rags and loose patches of his gar- 
ments. He shivered and rubbed his thin, shriveled, 
bony hands, and his teeth knocked together, and the 
wrinkles of his thin, yellow face rippled over its 
surface, and his deep-set eyes flashed and sparkled as 
only a maniac’s ma3^ 

“ Five miles, five miles,” he muttered, dreamily. 
“Five miles? Why everything grows — even distance. 
Twenty, ah, yes, twenty years ago, has it been twenty? 
Well, no matter, once it was but three miles from the 
top of this hill to the court-house yonder, but now it 
is five. Ah, that proves it ; that proves that the world 
grows just like an apple, and, that eventual^, it will 
fill all space, grind the sun, moon and stars to powder, 
gather them to itself to increase its own bulk, and then, 
like a grindstone, it will rub against, and wear away 
the sky, until finally it will break through and go 
whirling up into heaven. Then will come the resurrec- 
tion and the day of judgment.” Then he turned and 
walked down the hill toward the city, muttering, 
“ Five miles, five miles, how the world grows, grows, 
grows ! Twenty ^^ears — three miles have become five in 
twenty years !” At length he came to a railway track 
over which the highway passed, and then he again 
paused, leaned against a telegraph pole, looked up and 
down the track, and said, “ H ow here’s another accursed 
invention of man. Hot content to walk upon the earth 
as nature designed him to do, he must invent a power 
to drag him along on iron rails while he sits in a warm 


CONCLUSION. 


341 


house gazing pensively out the window, at the frozen 
earth and cloudless sky. I saw him at the station, away 
back yonder, over those hills, saw him to-day. He’ll go 
to the city, thought I, he’ll go to the city to-night on the 
cars, one thought and then another went creeping 
through my mind, as he walked to and fro on the plat- 
form of that lone station house, and how the old hate 
came up and boiled and surged through my heart, as 
I beheld him in broxdcloth and jewels, bought with 
other people’s money — my money — while 1 sat there 
cold, wet and hungry. What a good opportunity, 
thought I, to put him out of the way ; nobody would 
ever know who did the work, and I could crush his 
skull at a single blow with witch o-watch-o-we-chins’ 
foot. I was about to strike him once, when he came 
so near me that I could have touched him with mv 
hand, but at that instant a carriage drove up, into which 
he got, and ^vas whirled rapidly away. Oh, I was so 
angry with myself to think that I had permitted so 
good an opportunity to escape, to pass unimproved, 
but as I sat there thinking, viewing the subject in all 
its lights and shades, I concluded that perhaps it was 
well enough that circumstances had permitted him to 
escape my vengeance for the time, because, to kill him 
at a single blow, would be to deal out to him an easy 
death, and that is no part of my plan. And so I 
trudged along, and here I am within five miles of the 
city — within half a mile of the bridge, and the train 
about due. I must hurry, hurry on,” and he walked 
away down the railway track, toward the city. 

He stumbled along over the ties, bruised his foot on 
the sharp stones between them, and muttered savagely, 
“Cassell will be on the train, curse him, miserable dog. 


342 


COMCLUStOM. 


sporting on other people’s money — my money — while I 
am freezing, starving. An angel, or devil came and 
told me last night that I would have him in my power 
to-day. Ila-ha ! Won’t I crush him !” 

Finally, he came to a long, high trestle-work which 
spanned a deep chasm, and leaning against the railing 
of the bridge, he brought the staff before him, and 
striking the butt end on the ground, exclaimed, “Well 
witch-o-watch-o-we-chin, what shall the God of the 
universe do now ? What, you won’t talk? You, my 
chief counselor.” As he stood gazing questioningly on 
the knot-head, a strong gust of wind swept up from 
the chasm and he reeled backward and would have 
fallen over the cliff but clung to the railing of the 
bridge, and shouted as he saw the slim prongs above 
the knot-head bend downward. “ Ha-ha-ha ! — Witch- 
o-watch-o-we-chin, you are wise — wise! I understand 
you my good, my only friend, I understand you, Ha! 
Avhat is that?” and he cast a wild, quick glance over his 
shoulder, down the track in the direction he had come. 
The wind had risen to a gale and swept from the north 
in strong gusts with dashes of rain which bea t furiously 
upon him as he stood and listened. What did he hear ? 
Eoll, roll, rumble, rumble! rattlebang, rattlebang! It 
was the sound of a railway train thundering along the 
track toward the city. “Ha ! ” he exclaimed, angrily, as 
he saw the first flash of the headlight far down the 
track, “ha-ha-ha! he can not escape me now.” Then 
he carefully put down his staff, wrenched several large 
stones from the embankment near, rolled them one by 
one, to the track and piled them between the ties and 
on the iron until a great heap of stones had been placed 
just over the abutment of the first span of the bridge. 


CON CL USION, 


343 


Then he raised his staff from the ground, grasped it 
firmly with both hands, stepped back a few paces on the 
bridge, and took position in the center of the track. 
His hat had fallen off, and the wind had blown it down 
into the chasm, and his long hair floated out behind 
him, flapping like a flag in the wind. The tatters of 
his thin garments waved like many arms pointing and 
beckoning, while he stood grim and motionless, glaring 
defiance at the advancing train. It was the Lightning 
Express, a train for which all others gave way, and it 
was well named, for it ran at a high rate of speed. 
Koll, roll, rattlebang ! rattlebang ! puff, puff, and the 
first gleams of the headlight shone around that ghostly 
object standing on the bridge behind the heap of 
stones, as the engine reached the summit and came 
dashing down the grade. 

“ Ha-ha-ha !” he laughed, as ho leaned upon his 
staff, wagged his head derisively and shook his slim 
fore-finger menacingly toward the train. “Ha-ha-ha!” 
and his wild mocking laugh floated away on the wind 
and came back in hoarse echoes from the awful depths 
of the chasm. Koll, roll 1 rumble, rumble ! rattlebang, 
rattlebang! brighter and brighter grew the light 
around him, as the train came thundering down the 
grade. 

On, on ! only a quarter of a mile to the bridge. On, 
on, only four hundred yards, ah! a shrill whistle for 
down brakes, another, and then another, the last like a 
human wail of despair, ah ! too late, too late! crash! 
and the engine strikes the obstruction, leaps upward, 
trembles on the verge and then plunges forward into 
the dark gulch. 

Down, down-crash ! and the engine had fallen on 


3^4 


CON CL U SION. 


the rocks below. Crash ! and a car had fallen upon it, 
and broken into fragments. Crash ! crash ! crash ! and 
the whole train had made the awful leap, burying a 
hundred human beings in its ruins. 

As the engine came in contact with the obstruction, 
the ghostly figure standing on the bridge raised his 
staff, swung it abov^e his head, and aimed a blow at 
the headlight, but fell far short of the mark, and he 
reeled backward, slipped between the ties, and dropped 
downward into the gulch, striking the ground at the 
base of a stone pier, forty feet below. 

He struck squarely on his feet with terrific force, 
and plunged headlong forward on his face, in a dead 
swoon. For several minutes he remained in that posi- 
tion, and then he began to clutch the ground with his 
hands, and moaned piteously. Finally he struggled to 
a sitting posture, reached backward and grasped his 
long staff, which lay near him, and leaning forward on 
it, gazed wildly down on the wreck at the bottom of 
the gulch. For the moment he appeared not to 
realize the awful calamity which had befallen him, 
so preoccupied was he in contemplating the >uin 
his hands had wrought, and although he suffered 
intensely, not a moan escaped him. lie heard the 
awful moans of the wounded, he saw a light spring 
up in the wreck, and knew that it had caught fire from 
the engine furnace. He saw the uninjured survivors 
hurrying around the burning wreck, making desperate 
efforts to drag forth the wounded, and again he waved 
the knot-head aloft, and broke forth in a wild, fiendish 
laugh. 

“Ha- ha -ha!” he shouted, “ha -ha -ha!” and 
the tall cliff across the gulch threw back the sound, 


CONCL USION. 


345 


ha-ah-a-a-a-ali — all ! ” He could hear the crackling 
of the flames, and see the fire licking in among the 
splintered timbers of the wreck, and the light grow 
brighter, until the tall cliffs and tree-tops stood boldly 
out from the darkness. Finally a faintness began to 
creep over him, and although he leaned upon his staff 
for support, his hands were weak and unable to sustain 
the Aveight of his body, and gradually he sank down- 
ward, until he lay at full length on the ground. As 
he gazed aloft, he saAV the broken span of the bridge 
swaying to and fro in the wind, and he heard a sound 
louder than the moaning storm, or the groans of the 
Avounded and djdng. 

Roll, roll, rattlebang, rattlebang — it AA’as another 
train, rushing doAAm the grade! Nearer and nearer — 
ah 1 The shrill scream of the Avhistle rang out, the 
car Avheels ground along the track, and the engine 
came to a dead halt, less than ten feet from the broken 
span of the bridge. Then he heard shouts, and as he 
gazed aloft, saAV human forms creeping down the bridge 
timbers, heard human voices calling out to him, and a 
moment later Leo Cassell knelt beside him, and gazed 
pityingly into his face. With a whispered curse, 
AAdiich died upon his lips, he endeaA^ored to raise his 
hand to strike the man Avho knelt beside him, but 
death thwarted his wicked purpose, for his hand fell 
nervelessly by his side, as his Avicked spirit took its 
flight. 

Yes, he AA^as dead. The light from the burning Avreck 
shone on his haggard, upturned face, revealing the 
deep furrows AAdiich time had ncA^er placed there. Dis- 
ease, dissipation and unbridled passion had done the 
Avork, and ten years had converted the proud, erect 


CONCLUSION. 


316 

form of tnc young man into the crouching decrepitude 
of age. He had gone forth from his native city a fugi- 
tive from justice, but he had promised the man, through 
whose magnanimity he had been able to escape the ven- 
geance of violated law, that he would endeavor to 
become an honest man. He went forth with fresh 
hopes and noble aspirations, but the seeds of vice were 
deeply sown in his heart, and, after a brief, feeble strug- 
gle against their base promptings, he fell back into the 
ways of sin, and became a wretched, wandering out- 
law. He had wandered through foreign lands, and for 
his crimes had endured toil and imprisonment as a gal- 
ley-slave in France. He had been branded, whipped 
and scarred, barely escaping with his life, but with sul- 
len indifference he had endured all, suffered all — would 
not die. Finally he had wandered hack to his native 
land, a shattered and stranded human soul, and there, 
in the light of the burning wreck, under the swinging 
span of the broken bridge, was stretched at full length 
on the cold, wet ground all that remained of the once 
favored child of fortune, even Charles Barr}^ A rough 
pine coffin and a few feet of earth were his only inher- 
itances, and clods were piled above him by strange, 
rude men, amid coarse jestings and blasphemy. Such 
is ‘‘ the wages of sin.^'^ 

******* 

Ten years — listen ! Ten years ! ten years ! ten years ! 
Ah, how plainly the great bells of the Garden City say 
“ ten years ! ” as they ring out a joyous welcome to 
another glad new year. Ten years had been gathered 
into the garner of the Almighty to be sorted, the tares 


CONCLUSION. 347 

from the wheat, and ten had been added to the score 
of ages by the Grim Ilecorder. 

“ Ten years ! ” oh, yes, and a generous, noble old man, 
even Judge Dudley, had peacefully departed to a higher 
and better life, but the Palace of the Avenue was brill- 
iantly lighted that joyous New-Year’s eve, and a throng 
of beautiful children sported through the spacious par- 
lors, while in the dining-hall papas and mammas lin- 
gered over their wine, amid smiles and mutual con- 
gratulations. 

Hark ! hear the bells chime! How plainly they say 
ten years! Ha-ha! how the children romp — ha-ha! 
and, bursting open the door, rush in, a veritable army 
of invasion, capturing paoas and mammas, and coming 
to the relief of our good frienc' Lee Cassell, who, flushed 
with ‘Hhe rosy,” had risen to respond to a toast, pro- 
posed by our jolly friend Merryfellow, in these words : 

“Edward, Kate and three babies, 

Leo, Grace and their four, 

Rudolph and Dollie’s houseful, 

May another ten years bring us more.” 

Cassell had been unable to frame a single neat sen- 
tence, and stood leaning over the back of his chair, 
laughing and protesting that the toast itself entirely 
exhausted the subject, but he heartily concurred in the 
sentiments expressed, and were it not for the slight 
annoyances incident to occasional domestic midnight 
concerts, necessitating a “tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys 
are marching,” he certainly could desire no greater 
happiness. But just there the children put in an appear- 
ance, spoiling the speech, and, amid the tooting ef 
tin iiorns, the rattle of drums and the squeaking of cry- 


CONCLC’S/OA’’. 


348 

ing dolls, Cassell’s voice was completely drowned, and 
the meeting came to a sudden and untimely end. 

Since then many happy New- Years have come and 
gone, and our friends are growing old, but they are 
happy, and true to each other, and the great Father 
of all has blessed them abundantly. 


THE END, 



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